


in your head, your heart, your bed

by nightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-27 10:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15022826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: The story of how Kent Parson and Jeff Troy ended up in each other's beds. Repeatedly.





	in your head, your heart, your bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softkent (SalazarTipton)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalazarTipton/gifts).



> The Parse/Troy prompt I had was: "Options ~ getting together, secret marriage/relationship and the aces finding out about it, kissing on the ice, soulmate au [im indecisive, okay?], bed sharing." I basically took the "getting together" and the "bed sharing" and made a thing out of it. I hope you like it!
> 
> Big thanks to my beta who shall not be named until authors are revealed :)

**June 2016**

 

The other side of Kent’s bed is empty when he wakes up. It shouldn’t surprise him, considering how last night ended for him. 

He was watching the Cup Final with a bunch of the guys at their favorite bar and they were having a good time – or at least as good of a time as you can have when you’re playing golf instead of hockey – but then fucking Jack Zimmermann had to go and kiss his boyfriend on national TV and that was it for the good times. Everything went to shit after that.

Kent, eyes glued to the TV, tried his hardest not to listen to what the guys were saying, but he heard. He’s never been able to look away and not listen. He’s heard it all before. He’s heard Scrappy and Troy grumbling at the other guys for being jerks, too, but in the end it doesn’t do shit. Kent had a few more drinks and Scrappy had to take him home, because he could barely walk straight anymore. Seemed like a good idea, but now his head is pounding and opening his eyes is about as appealing as stabbing himself in the eyeball with a fork, so he stays in bed, eyes screwed shut, waiting for it to go away.

He’ll likely be waiting for a while.

Kent barely remembers what happened after Zimms went and ruined his entire life last night. Maybe it’s better that way. He tentatively blinks and finds that the blinds are shut. So far so good. He reaches out to grab his phone from the nightstand, but it’s not there. Maybe that’s also for the best. He doesn’t know where to go from here. People will be asking questions. Kent won’t have to answer them, but no answer is also an answer, isn’t it? Things are going to change, and not just for him, but right now his own life is his immediate concern.

He needs to check his phone. 

Getting out of bed takes him a good five minutes because he has to talk himself into not hurling all over his bedroom. He eventually finds his phone still wedged into the pocket of the jeans he was wearing last night. 

He quickly scans the notifications. Nothing he needs to be worried about. Seems like this morning isn’t a complete disaster. He reaches the end of the notifications without finding a text from Jeff. Now _that_ is something to worry about. 

Jeff Troy was supposed to be in Kent’s bed this morning. He was supposed to be here and Kent pushed him away and he can’t remember what exactly he said, but he’s afraid that it came out wrong, that he finally fucked things up for good, and that Jeff will never come back now. Kent takes a deep breath to keep himself from freaking out and also to will away another wave of nausea. 

He remembers sneaking away to the bathroom after the game, remembers Jeff following him there, remembers Jeff’s face, eyes wide and worried. Kent didn’t know what to say, or what to do; all he knows is that he was scared, that he wanted Jeff to stay away.

Kent stares down at his phone, like that might make a text from Jeff appear.

A few minutes tick by. Nothing happens. 

He shouldn’t have gotten himself into this situation in the first place. He shouldn’t be waiting for a text. He shouldn’t be used to waking up with Jeff in his bed. He should have just stuck to the plan. No more getting too close to teammates. No more cuddling, no more kissing, no more falling in love. None of that nonsense. 

Well. Things obviously didn’t go according to plan. 

 

*

 

**November 2009**

 

“Give it back.”

“Nope. No way.”

“Parse.”

“I just wanna look at it,” Kent says and sticks out his bottom lip. “Why would you deny me this simple pleasure?”

Jeff rolls his eyes and stops chasing Kent around their hotel room. 

With a smirk on his face, Kent sits down on his bed, cradling the stuffed dinosaur he just found in Jeff’s suitcase against his chest. It’s not their first roadie together, it’s, like, their fifth, and they’ve been sharing a room ever since the season began. They’re the only rookies on the team this season, but Jeff has already spent a year with the Aces’ farm team and Kent came straight to Vegas.

Jeff didn’t like him at first; Kent could tell. He shot Kent a dirty look every single time he laid eyes on him. He’s looking at him like that right now, but that’s just because Kent is being an ass. When Kent is not being an ass, they mostly get along. He’s pretty sure that one of the trainers figured out that they weren’t getting along too well and put them in the same room on the road. Because rookies share rooms. Even when one of the rookies is Kent Parson, who’s been Rookie of the Months twice this season already. 

“Can you just give him back?”

“No,” Kent says and pats the head of the tiny dinosaur. “I wanna say hi to Littlefoot here.”

Jeff makes a face.

“Dude, is his name actually Littlefoot?”

“Shut up, I really liked _The Land Before Time_ when I was a kid, okay?”

“That’s cute,” Kent says. 

“My mom gave him to me as a lucky charm,” Jeff says, “so can you give him back?”

Kent hugs the dinosaur more tightly. “But he’s cute.”

Jeff is starting to look increasingly exasperated and Kent knows that he should just give it back and go the fuck to sleep, but he’s having way too much fun right now. He notices himself slipping back into thoughts about Zimms when he doesn’t keep himself distracted and teasing Jeff is, incidentally, very distracting.

“Get your own Littlefoot,” Jeff says and jumps onto Kent’s bed to snatch back his dinosaur.

Kent laughs and stuffs Littlefoot under his pillow so he can wrestle Jeff. He gets a good kick in, but then Jeff is on top of him, hand going under his pillow. Kent grabs him by the wrist and pushes him off, clambering on top of him so he won’t be able to move anymore, but Jeff retaliates quickly and starts tickling him.

“Not fair,” Kent chokes out, squirming away from Jeff.

Jeff laughs and flops down on top of Kent when he’s finally done tickling him. “Gotcha.”

“Okay,” Kent says. He’s still trying to catch his breath. “Okay, I give up. You can have him back.” He reaches back under the pillow and pulls out Littlefoot. “So he’s good luck, huh?”

“He is,” Jeff says and pokes Kent in the ribs one more time. 

Kent grumbles at him and scoots away. Jeff tucks Littlefoot under his shirt, like that’ll keep Kent from stealing him again. “Do you always bring him along?”

“Always,” Jeff confirms. 

Kent wants to chirp him, but it’s actually sort of adorable. 

“I’ve had him since juniors,” Jeff says. They’re definitely entering prime chirping territory, but Jeff is telling him a secret here and Kent might have lost his best friend a few months ago, but he hasn’t forgotten that a secret a friends tells you is one that you keep. 

Littlefoot’s head is sticking out from under Jeff’s shirt, so Kent reaches out to pat his little head. “I guess you’ve been hiding him well.”

“I tried,” Jeff says and purses his lips at Kent.

Kent laughs and wiggles a little to get comfortable. They had back-to-back games and it’s only nine o’clock but Kent is so exhausted that he feels like he could fall asleep on the spot. Playing in the NHL is different. Kent almost feels like Jeff is having an easier rookie season, just because he’s already spent a year in the AHL and didn’t come here straight from juniors. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” Kent tips his head until it bumps against Jeff’s shoulder. “Promise.”

Jeff only hums. 

Kent barely notices that he starts to drift off. He doesn’t think too much about the fact that Jeff is still in his bed. Because Jeff is warm and close and it’s nice. Really nice. 

When Kent wakes up in the morning, Jeff is still in his bed. Jeff’s shirt has ridden up and Littlefoot the dinosaur has somehow ended up between their knees. Kent could just get up really quickly, but then Jeff would still wake up in Kent’s bed. It’ll be awkward either way. Kent coughs. “Um…”

Jeff blinks at him. “Oh.”

Kent rubs his eyes and quickly gets out of bed to escape to the bathroom. They don’t talk about it. Whatever. They just slept in the same bed. Kent and Zimms used to sleep in the same bed all the time and– Okay, maybe that’s not the best thing to compare this to. 

He’s gonna have to make sure that this never happens again.

 

*

 

**March 2010**

 

Kent is already curled up in bed when there’s a knock on his door. It’s only eight. He skipped dinner. Pattie is probably coming to check on him to make sure he’s doing okay. Kent has realized that Pattie is stupidly perceptive, so he’s been trying to keep it together. At least as much as he can.

He did consider getting his own place when he first came to Vegas, but every single person who works for the Las Vegas Aces organization agreed that he should spend his rookie season at Pattie’s house. Pattie is a vet. Kent isn’t the first rookie who’s staying with him and he probably won’t be the last.

Pattie and his wife are pretty chill about Kent coming and going however he pleases as long as he doesn’t do anything completely stupid. They don’t keep tabs on him, but they also make sure there’s food in the house that he likes and they invite him along when they do stuff with their kids.

Sometimes Kent just can’t deal with being around people, though. He’ll hide in his room and put on his headphones and blast Britney and stare at Jack Zimmermann’s phone number, knowing full well that no one will answer when he calls. Sometimes he’ll try anyway and he’ll still be disappointed when he doesn’t hear Jack’s voice on the other end of the line. All that’s left between them now is silence. On some days, Kent feels like he just can’t take it anymore. Then he daydreams about jumping on a plane to Montreal, he wonders what would happen if he went to the Zimmermanns’ house, wonders who would open the door, if it would be Jack, or Bob, or maybe Alicia. He imagines Jack telling him how sorry he is, that he should have called, that he never meant to cut Kent out like that. And then reality seeps back in.

Kent can’t go to Montreal. They’re reaching the end of the regular season, but he has responsibilities here. He won’t see Zimms for a long, long time.

He doesn’t immediately answer when Pattie knocks on the door. He considers pretending that he’s fast asleep, but then someone says, “Parse,” and Kent realizes that it isn’t Pattie at all. It’s Jeff.

“The fuck,” Kent says.

“Don’t say that word, Parse, there are impressionable children in the house.”

Kent rolls his eyes, even though Jeff can’t see him.

“Can I come in?” Jeff asks. 

“If you must.”

“Are you naked or something?”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” Kent says.

Jeff opens the door and tentatively pokes his head inside. “Hey, you’re dressed.”

“Is that a hint of disappointment I detect there?” 

Jeff flips him off and flops down next to him on the bed. “What’s up?”

“Funny, I was just gonna ask you the same thing,” Kent says. He doesn’t move; he stays upside down on his bed, with his feet on his pillow. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, Dad said I could hang out with a friend tonight, so I figured I’d drop by and see if you’re busy,” Jeff says. Jeff is staying at Shorty’s place for now, although Kent is pretty sure that Jeff could actually handle living on his own. He’s only a year older than Kent, but Jeff’s mom and dad made sure that he was ready for this. Boy knows how a washing machine works. And he can cook more than scrambled eggs. Jeff grabs one of Kent’s pillows to hug it – he does that, he’s a notorious pillow-hugger. “Watcha doin’?”

“Nothing,” Kent replies.

“Sounds super exciting,” Jeff says. “You wanna watch a game?”

Kent glares at him. He sort of wants to kick him out, because he doesn’t want or need company right now, but Jeff is sort of his only friend on the team right now. The other guys tease and chirp him into oblivion, and, okay, they’re not downright hostile or anything, but these guys aren’t just going to respect Kent simply for being the number one pick. If anything, that makes things worse. He feels like Jeff doesn’t even get chirped half as much. 

“Parser?” Jeff says. 

“Jeffrey?”

Jeff clears his throat. “You seemed… I don’t know. After practice today, you seemed kinda mad.”

“I wasn’t mad,” Kent snaps. He was _so_ mad. 

“Yeah, you sure weren’t.”

Kent rolls onto his stomach. The only part of Jeff he can see now are his feet. “Just leave me alone.”

“Fine,” Jeff says, and shuts the hell up, and Kent is a little bit thankful for that. 

He can hear Jeff tapping away on his phone, but he doesn’t try to talk to Kent again, so he can go back to sulking and feeling like absolute crap. Because that’s just how his day is going today. He should be happy. They clinched a playoff spot last night. For the first time in years the Las Vegas Aces will get a shot at the Cup. It’s big. Everyone wanted to talk to Kent after the game last night, and everyone wanted to talk to him this morning.

Kent Parson. Finally leading the Las Vegas Aces to glory, or some bullshit like that.

The truth is, the Las Vegas Aces changed quite a bit after their abysmal last season. A bunch of the guys left. A bunch got traded. And then there’s him, fresh from juniors, and Jeff, called up from the AHL. The point is, it’s not _just_ Kent. He didn’t perform some sort of miracle. Even though he leads the Aces in goals and points, even though he’ll likely come home with the Calder this summer. 

“Are you proud of what you’ve achieved in your rookie season already?” they asked him.

“What does it take for the Aces to finally make it past the Conference Finals?”

“Is this something you wish you could share with your former teammate, Jack Zimmermann?”

That was the one. The question that ruined his day. It’s beyond repair now. He’s been thinking about Zimms all day, has been wondering if he knows that Kent is going to the playoffs, that he’s going to play for the goddamn Cup. He wonders if Zimms wishes that it was him playing with the Aces, not Kent. 

And maybe it should be Zimms. There’s no way of telling if the Aces would have gone for Zimms instead if he hadn’t pulled out of the draft. Maybe Kent is supposed to be here. Maybe the Aces are his team, maybe they were his team to begin with. Or maybe they’re not. Maybe he doesn’t really belong here. Maybe he should be in Houston right now. They’re not going to playoffs. Not yet, anyway. 

Jeff is still quiet; it’s like he’s not even here. Kent isn’t sure if he’s waiting for something or if he doesn’t have anywhere better to be. Kent certainly isn’t great company tonight. 

Because he’s sort of getting bored, Kent tips his leg and pokes Jeff’s arm with his toe.

Jeff doesn’t react. 

Kent looks over his shoulder and sees that Jeff is still occupied with his phone. Probably texting some girl. Jeff is a real ladies’ man, they practically flock to him wherever he goes and then he acts all shy and nervous. Kent has embraced the fact that girls constantly give him his number and hang around – he’ll do anything to get rid of those stupid rumors about him and Zimms. Granted, they were true, but if anyone ever finds out, Kent might as well pack his bags and permanently move out into the desert and live with the cacti. 

He lets out a sigh and looks away again. 

“You know…” Jeff says, but trails off.

“Yeah?”

“Never mind.”

Kent pokes him with his toes again, harder this time. “What?”

“Well. I’m sitting here. I have ears. And I can keep a secret.”

He knows what Jeff is saying, but that doesn’t mean Kent cares. Well. He cares. But does he actually trust Jeff? Maybe. Probably. Does he want to tell Jeff about Zimms, though? The whole story? No fucking way. And not only because part of that story isn’t Kent’s to tell. He just can’t say it out loud. Ever. When he says it out loud, it’s… well, then it’s out there and he can’t take it back. 

But maybe it wouldn’t hurt to tell him part of the story. Because Kent is starting to feel like he’s going to explode with how hard he’s trying to keep it all inside. 

Kent can’t look at Jeff right now, because he’s about to admit that he has at least one, maybe even one and a half weaknesses and that’s hard enough already. Looking someone in the eye when he does that? Absolutely out of the question. Kent sighs. “I hate it when they ask me about Zimms.”

“Oh,” Jeff says. “Too personal?”

“Well, it’s just… I’m not gonna go talk about him, that’s none of their business.”

“Right,” Jeff says. It sounds like he’s waiting for the rest of the story. There’s a lot of story left. 

“Anyway, they’re like, _Oh, Kent, wouldn’t it be great if you could share this with Zimmermann_? Like, even if he hadn’t pulled out of the draft, we wouldn’t be on the same team anymore. Why does it matter?”

“He was a big deal,” Jeff says.

Oh, damn right he was. Son of hockey legend Bob Zimmermann, following in his father’s footsteps, ready to break his records, ready to make history. That was the story. And then there was Kent. He was good. Great. Excellent, even. But he’s not hockey royalty. Nobody cared about him in the beginning; he had to work his way up. People only started caring when he ended up on a line with Zimms. And suddenly they were this miracle duo that was going to save hockey. 

And then came the draft and everything fell apart. 

Kent can’t think about that night, or the day after. He can’t think about that locked bathroom door. He tries to shake off the thought. “He would have been fantastic,” Kent says quietly. It would have been a race, the two of them competing for the Calder. The two of them facing off against each other for the first time. That would have been a story. 

“Are you still in touch?” Jeff asks when Kent doesn’t say anything else. Right, because Jeff doesn’t know that Kent found Zimms half-dead on a bathroom floor. He doesn’t know what happened. Nobody knows. Everyone speculates. 

“No,” Kent says, “not right now.”

“Oh.” Sounds like Jeff wasn’t expecting that to be the answer. “I mean, like, in the papers they said that he had some sort of breakdown and that he overdosed, but that’s total crap, right? He–”

Kent sucks in a deep breath. “I can’t tell you, okay?”

“Okay. I’m sorry,” Jeff says. It sounds sincere and for some reason it almost makes Kent want to cry. “Whatever happened… I’m sorry.”

Kent’s hands want to shake so he balls them into fists. “It was bad,” he says. “It was…” _So, so bad_. Kent still has nightmares about it every now and then. Sometimes, when they’re on the road, he’ll dream about it and he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and he’ll make sure that Jeff didn’t notice. 

Jeff doesn’t say anything this time, but he leans forward and lies down next to Kent, the touch of his fingertips light on Kent’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s fine,” Kent says. It’s not fine. Not even a little bit. 

“Hey,” Jeff says, “if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

But _now_ Kent really doesn’t want him to go. He wants nothing more than for Jeff to stay. Right there, right next to him, with his hand on Kent’s shoulder, his thumb tracing absent-minded circles. “No,” Kent only says. 

“Okay, then I’ll stay,” Jeff says.

Maybe Kent is imagining things, but it felt like Jeff just scooted a tiny little bit closer. He doesn’t question it. He stays very, very still, because he’s afraid that one wrong move will make Jeff scoot away again. 

No one’s been this close to Kent in a while. Sure, the guys hug him when he scores a goal, but that’s nothing compared to lying next to someone like this. Kent never wants it to end, he never wants Jeff to leave and he’s coming up with the most ridiculous ideas to keep him here. But for now, he just stays still and enjoys it while it lasts. 

He eventually falls asleep with Jeff still right next to him, Jeff’s hand splayed on his back, not moving anymore. It’s just warm and _there,_ and that’s all he wants.

And he shouldn’t want that. Kent is well aware of that. This must be crossing some kind of line, but if Jeff doesn’t care, neither does Kent. Jeff is always hugging and high-fiving and patting everyone, that’s just who he is. Kent has had teammates like that before. Everyone loves them. But at some point in his life it occurred to Kent that he shouldn’t be like that at all, just because all those rumors were already out there and Kent didn’t want to do anything to go give anyone the wrong idea.

Today he doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t care what Jeff thinks. Honestly, Jeff was the one who lay down next to him in the first place, so Jeff clearly doesn’t give a shit that someone could think that this is weird. 

When Kent falls asleep, he’s left those thoughts miles and miles behind.

For the first time in a long time, he finally feels like he can let go a little bit. He doesn’t have to be First Pick Kent Parson Who Will Do Great Things, he can just be Parse who’s a little messy and who doesn’t give a shit. 

He wakes up a little while later and Jeff is still there, fast asleep. Maybe Kent should wake him up, but he decides to be a selfish ass, wiggles a little until he’s comfortable again, now with Jeff properly curled against him, still upside down in his bed, and goes right back to sleep. 

It’s midnight when Jeff gives him a gentle pat and says, “Parse, I’m gonna head home. You okay?”

Is he okay? Maybe. Kent nods. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Jeff says and clambers out of bed. “I’ll see you at the rink in the morning, eh?”

Kent nods. When Jeff is about to open the door, Kent clears his throat. “Jeff…”

“Hm?”

Kent needs to say thank you. He needs to make sure that Jeff knows that it means everything to him that he stayed, but the words just won’t come out of his mouth. Why is this so hard? It shouldn’t be hard. 

When he doesn’t say anything, Jeff only nods and smiles. “Sleep well, Parse.”

“You too,” Kent says, and closes his eyes again before Jeff is even out the door. 

 

*

 

**August 2010**

 

“Parse, I’ve seen your apartment. Twice.”

“I know, but you haven’t seen what I’m about to show you,” Kent says and pulls Jeff into his apartment. He moved in three weeks ago. 

He’s back in Vegas, training camp for his second season is starting in two weeks and he’s itching to get back to playing with the guys. The summer was excruciating. He went home for a while, spent some time with his mom and his stepdad, avoided seeing his dad, and cuddled with Crabby. Crabby is a very large, very orange cat that his mom adopted when Kent left to play in Canada. They don’t really know how old she is, but she’s snuggly and she loves sleeping in Kent’s bed, usually when he’s not around, but also when he is. Then she curls up next to Kent and purrs quietly until Kent is asleep. 

“Did you finally get plates?” Jeff asks.

“Fuck off, I got plates like two days ago,” Kent grumbles. “I got something even better.”

“Decorative items? Did you go to IKEA and buy a cactus?”

“No, it’s not a cactus.”

“Don’t tell me you got an actual potted plant,” Jeff says, looking around curiously, “you’re gonna kill it.”

“I’d totally be capable of taking care of a plant.”

Jeff gives him a doubtful look.

“See, you don’t even think I can take care of a plant and now I kinda don’t wanna show you anymore.”

“Fucking hell, Parse, you’d be a great plant dad, I’m sure plants love you and never die when they’re around you. Now show me the thing. You sent me like fifty texts about it, so it must be something cool.”

“It is,” Kent says and shoves Jeff across the living room and into his bedroom. He got the biggest bed he could find when he bought furniture for this place. He didn’t hire someone to do it, because then it wouldn’t be _his_ , and he’ll likely stick around for a while, so he needs this place to feel at least somewhat like his home.

He’s living on his own for the first time in his life and he’s going to do it right. So when he had all the furniture and all the little things you need – like sheets and towels and a vacuum and plates, he felt like there was something missing. And then he thought of his mom’s house, because that always seemed like such a perfect place to him, a place that he still loves coming back to, and he thought of Crabby, sleeping in the sunny spot that always appears on Kent’s bed in the afternoon on a nice day, and two minutes later he was on Google. 

And now there’s a tiny furball in his bed, tucked in between his pillows.

“You didn’t,” Jeff says.

“I did.”

Jeff sighs. “You did.”

“Much better than a potted plant.”

“Also a lot more work than a potted plant,” Jeff says. “Do you know how cats work?”

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

Kent shrugs. “My mom has a cat. And I got everything she needs. I’ve already talked to one of my neighbors and she’s totally willing to check on Kit when we’re on the road.”

“Kit,” Jeff echoes.

“Kit Purrson.”

Jeff only blinks at Kit, shaking his head.

“Admit it. She’s cute.”

“I… guess.”

“She’s the best.”

“How long have you had her?”

“Less than twenty-four hours,” Kent says. They’re friends already, though. Kit likes sleeping on his chest and that’s all Kent needs to know to be sure that he picked the right cat. He found her by chance – Kent gave a lady who was giving kittens away a call and she told him that he could pick her up whenever he wanted. He went immediately. 

“She’s fuzzy.”

“Her mom’s a Maine Coon.”

“Whatever that means,” Jeff says and sits down at the edge of Kent’s bed and leans in to take a closer look at Kit. He reaches out with one finger stretched out. “Is she gonna eat me if I…”

“Nah.”

“Hey,” Jeff says and gently taps Kit with his finger, “hi, there.”

Kit yawns and paws at Jeff’s finger. 

“Ohh,” Jeff says and holds up her paw, eyes darting over to Kent. “Can I pick her up?”

“Sure, here…” Kent sits down on his bed as well. “Lean back.”

Jeff leans back against the headboard and Kent carefully scoops up Kit. At first she gives him the offended face, but then Kent puts her down on Jeff’s chest and she’s appeased instantly and goes right back to sleep. 

“Is that all she does?” Jeff says. “Sleep?”

“Yeah. Like you,” Kent says. He scoots closer and runs his fingers down Kit’s back. “She also purrs.”

It doesn’t take long for Kit to start purring and Kent is pretty sure that Jeff looks like he’s falling in love with her a little bit, which was totally part of the plan. He needs Kit and Jeff to get along. Because Jeff will be here. A lot. Doesn’t matter if she likes anyone else, at least not at this point. 

“So?” Kent says.

It takes Jeff a moment to reply, because he’s busy scratching Kit’s head. “Huh?”

“What’s the verdict?”

“Well, she is kinda cute.”

“I know, right?”

“And soft.”

“Very soft,” Kent says. “She likes sleeping on people.”

Jeff hums and keeps stroking Kit’s fur. He doesn’t stop for a while. Kent almost nods off a few times and then jerks awake again with his head falling onto Jeff’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“Maybe you should take a nap,” Jeff says, his eyes still on Kit.

“Maybe,” Kent agrees. 

“Maybe I should take a nap, too.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Kent says. He doesn’t bother scooting away. He wasn’t gonna do this anymore, but he went to the gym earlier and then he had an on-ice training session, and afterwards he went out shopping to buy more toys for Kit, because he didn’t feel like he had enough, and now he’s exhausted.

“I guess she can stay,” is the last thing Kent hears Jeff mumble before he falls asleep.

 

*

 

**June 2012**

 

“I can’t believe we’re–”

“Parse.”

“We’re…” Kent clings to Jeff, trying to somehow remember how to walk, but he’s had too much champagne and now walking is difficult. “Cup,” he only manages to say.

“Jesus fuck, can you at least–”

“No.”

“Parse, you shit.”

“Come on, one more drink.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “No more. Where are your keys?”

“Keys,” Kent says. “Yeah.”

He does find his keys eventually, but unlocking the door to his apartment is about the hardest thing he’s ever tried to do. And he did just win the Stanley Cup.

“Help.”

Jeff takes the keys from him, giggling under his breath as he tries to fit them into the lock. Jeff is drunk, too, but he had some water in between. Kent is on a completely different plane of existence right now. 

They won the Cup.

They went out drinking with the whole team.

Kent can barely believe that he held the actual fucking Stanley Cup in his hands a few hours ago. He got to hoist it first. He’s the captain. Three years in the NHL and he’s pretty much done it all.

“Okay, okay, I got it,” Jeff whispers and the door swings open. 

Kit comes darting out of the darkness, meowing at them like they’ve somehow offended her by barging in here in the middle of the night. 

“Shhh, Princess, ‘s just us.” Kent fumbles for the light switch. It takes him a few tries to actually flip it. “Uhh, bright.”

“That’s how light works.”

“Shut up, smartass,” Kent says and nearly stumbles over a cat toy. “She’s tryin’ to murder me.”

Kent’s apartment is an absolute mess these days, just because he didn’t even try to clean up anymore with the Cup Finals. His cleaning crew is coming around in a few days and he needs to take care of at least half of this mess before that. There’s dirty clothes on the couch, an empty pizza carton on the table, empty cups and glasses all over the place. He knows for a fact that Jeff and Brady’s apartment doesn’t look any better. 

“What happened to Brady?” Kent asks.

“Went home with his girlfriend,” Jeff says. 

Brady’s the rookie this season. It’s still weird that it’s not them anymore. It’s even weirder that Brady is a few months older than Kent. But that’s how it works in the league, sometimes you don’t go straight to the NHL. Kent was lucky that way. So, so lucky. He knows, but sometimes he forgets. 

Jeff adopted Brady at the beginning of the season and offered him the spare room in his apartment, but according to Jeff, Barry is hardly ever there anyway, because Brady found himself a girlfriend about four hours after he arrived in Vegas and he spends all his time away from the rink at her place. 

Kent carefully steps over another cat toy and makes sure Jeff makes it across safely as well, then he pushes open the door to his bedroom. 

“Ignore… all of this.” The dirty laundry and the messy drawers and the ties on the floor. Kent couldn’t find his green tie earlier and he was on a good way to convincing himself that he couldn’t play, because he didn’t have his lucky tie. 

The tie has never failed him. He doesn’t overuse it, because he doesn’t want to destroy its magic, but a Game 6 in the Stanley Cup Final was a special enough occasion. 

“Bed,” Kent says, lets go of Jeff and faceplants right on top of the duvet. 

“Uh…” Jeff says.

Kent pats the other side of the bed. “Bed.”

Pattie thought it was a good idea for Jeff to take home Kent, since Kent struggled with remembering how to walk for a bit there. Good old Pattie. There’s a good chance that he’ll retire after this season. He’s 38. And this is a good way to go, with the Cup in your hands. Kent hopes that one day he’ll get to go like that. He’ll play until he’s 45, though. Definitely. 

“Bed,” Jeff echoes and crawls into bed with him. They’re both still wearing their Stanley Cup Champions shirts that they were handed at the rink. Kent lost his cap somewhere along the way, but he’s sure they’ll give him another one for interviews the day after tomorrow. 

“We did good, Swoops.”

“Hmm.”

“’m proud of you,” Kent says and reaches out to give Jeff a pat.

“Thank you.”

Kent smiles into the darkness of his room. They didn’t turn off the light in the living room and he can see Kit sitting in the doorway, watching them. Kent loves her so much. It’s been a long season and they had to fight hard for their playoff spot and she was there for it all. Who needs a girlfriend when you have a cat, right?

“Swoops?”

Jeff only huffs in reply.

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend? You’ve never had a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“When?”

“High school.”

Kent laughs. “Yikes.”

“Go to sleep, Parse,” Jeff says, and there’s something in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Kent isn’t sure what it was and he doesn’t overthink it because it’s late – or maybe it’s early – and he’s drunk and when he’s drunk he starts hearing and seeing all sorts of shit. He’s reached that phase where he starts to think that everyone secretly hates him, and that’s usually a good time to go to sleep. 

He bumps into Jeff a few times during the night, and when he wakes up, he’s in the middle of the bed and Jeff is at the very right, and Kit is at the very left, and for some reason that makes Kent smile. He smiles until he notices that he wrapped an arm around Jeff sometime in the course of the night.

Kent carefully extracts that arm and puts a few inches between himself and Jeff and takes a few deep, slow breaths. He needs something to drink. Like, he needs to pour several bottles of water down his throat immediately. “Ugh…”

Jeff sniffs in reply, scrunches up his nose and rolls over onto his side, now facing Kent. 

He’s not sure if he’s ever been this close to Jeff’s face. Jeff has pretty impressive eyelashes. Kent is sure that he’s noticed that before, in passing, and filed it away with other things that don’t really matter. He’s not sure why it matters this morning. 

Kent is probably still drunk. That’s the only reasonable explanation. A drunk Kent Parson cares about very strange things. Like eyelashes. 

Anyway. Water.

Kent gets out of bed without disturbing Jeff again, finds himself some water, goes to the bathroom and returns to his bedroom with two more bottles of water, one for himself and one for Jeff. 

Jeff is still asleep, only now Kit is occupying the spot Kent was in a few minutes ago.

Kent gets back into bed, glad that Kit is between them now. Because Kent is definitely going back to sleep and he somehow feels like he’s not equipped to deal with another close-up of Jeff Troy’s stupidly long eyelashes.

 

*

 

**December 2012**

 

“That was rough.”

“Not only was it rough, it was…” Kent isn’t sure if there’s an adequate word for what exactly that game was. He sits down on the bed closest to the door. It’s Jeff’s, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to sit.

They’re not rookies anymore, they haven’t been in a while, and they could have their own rooms, but they spend so much time together that they ended up asking if they could share a room on the road. Kent is honestly just glad that Jeff isn’t sick of him yet and actually wants him around. 

Most of the new guys on the team still seem a little wary of him, like they’re not quite sure how to approach him, but Kent tries to be a good captain and pats their rookies on the back before games and tells them that it’s going to be okay, and to go out there and have fun, because if it’s not fun, then what’s the point? They have the best job in the world. 

He tells himself, too. He has to make sure that he doesn’t forget. Even after the bad games, like today, he needs to go back out there and do his best and remember to enjoy it, even if the media is all over them tanking in the season after they won the Cup. It’s okay, it’s still early in the season, they haven’t lost too many games. There’s a way back. There’s always a way back. Kent isn’t failing. He’s not. 

“Parse?”

“What?”

“You okay?” Jeff asks. “You look… I don’t know.”

Kent blinks at Jeff, who’s standing next to his bed, staring down at Kent. He looks worried. Jeff is so transparent. The thing is, to Jeff, everyone else is transparent, too. He can tell how people really feel from a mile away. Mood in the locker room? Jeff can tell as soon as he’s parked his car in the rink garage. Kent is having a minor breakdown after a bad game? Jeff can tell before it’s even started. 

“I…” Kent takes a deep breath. “What if we suck all season? What if we–”

“What? What if we don’t win the Cup again? Parse, come on. Sure, it’d be nice to go back-to-back, but we did just win the thing, it’s not like anyone will be severely disappointed if we don’t do it again immediately. I mean, it’d be nice, obviously, but….” Jeff shrugs. “Don’t beat yourself up about one bad game.”

“It wasn’t just _one_ bad game, though. We’re on a four game losing streak.”

“Fine, then let’s go on a four game winning streak next. Make up for it. It’ll be okay.”

Sure, that’s easy for Jeff to say. Jeff isn’t being asked if he’s worried about where his team is going. Jeff is leading the team in goals right now, because Kent just hasn’t been producing. He hasn’t been doing _anything_. All he does these days is fail and fail and fail. 

“Parse,” Jeff says. He shrugs off his jacket and gets out of his shoes, then he sits down next to Kent and gently coaxes him out of his jacket, too. “Hey, look, I know that the media is all over you all the time, and for good reason, because you’re a fucking amazing player and–”

“Not right now.”

“Everyone has a few bad games every now and then. And, sure, that’s why they’re all over it, isn’t it? It’s a story. Everything’s a story to them.”

Kent slowly breathes in through his nose and lets it back out through his mouth. He’s not going to cry. He’s the captain of a team. He just won the Cup. He has nothing to cry about. He’s not going to be a crybaby about this. 

“Hey,” Jeff says, “it’s okay.” He wraps an around Kent and, what the hell, maybe Kent is going to cry about it after all. “Shit, Parse, come on, don’t–”

“I’m sorry,” Kent chokes out.

“No, hey, that’s not what I meant. It’s okay. I just don’t want you to feel like…You’re doing everything for this team. You’re not failing us.”

Kent has no idea how Jeff knows exactly what’s bothering him, how he can just say it without it being a big deal. But Jeff is like that. It’s all simple and straightforward with him. No bullshit. 

“Come on…” Jeff scoots back and pulls Kent with him, one arm still around Kent, the other one fumbling for the light switch. “I always got embarrassed when I cried about stuff, so my mom would turn off the lights. I don’t know. It helped me.”

Kent only manages a pathetic sniffle in reply. 

“It’s all good,” Jeff says. “Hey, do you want me to get Littlefoot?”

“Shut up,” Kent says. He sort of does want Littlefoot – at home he cuddles Kit when he’s sad, but Kit is miles and miles away in Vegas. Anyway, this is already bad enough, he doesn’t need to give Jeff any more chirping material. 

“Okay.” And Jeff shuts up, because that’s just how good of a friend he is.

Honestly, Jeff is a much better friend than Kent will ever be. Kent constantly lies to everyone, ditches Jeff last minute when he suddenly feels like he can’t be around people and needs to blast Britney and cry instead, and snaps at him when he’s having a bad day, but Jeff is still here and Kent doesn’t deserve him and that makes him cry even harder.

Jeff holds him tightly. He isn’t one of those guys who feel like they have to shout _no homo_ before they give their best friend a hug. Jeff doesn’t really act like he’s in his early twenties. He’s an old soul, and maybe Kent needs someone like that to pull him back to the ground. 

Jeff’s chin is on top of Kent’s head and even when Kent has finally managed to stop crying, he doesn’t move away. He just can’t bring himself to move this soon. Somehow he often doesn’t realize how much he needs a hug until someone – usually Jeff – finally does hug him. 

“Swoops,” Kent whispers.

Jeff gently rubs Kent’s back. “Yeah?”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I never would, you know that.”

Yes, Kent knows that, but it still surprises him every time just how much he trusts Jeff. He almost wants to tell him all those things he never felt like he could tell anyone – well, other than Zimms, but even that was more showing than telling.

“But, Parse?” Jeff is quiet for a moment, his hand still, resting right between Kent’s shoulder blades. “Maybe you should talk to someone. About all of this. You shouldn’t have to feel like this just because we lost a couple of games. It’s not fair. And if you feel like it’s all too much… I don’t know, I just want you to be okay.”

Kent isn’t really sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all. 

Jeff doesn’t push him away. He doesn’t tell Kent to get into his own bed. He lets Kent stay until he’s asleep. Sometime during the night – maybe it’s half an hour later, or four hours later – Jeff tries to scoot away, but Kent catches him by his shirt and Jeff stills. 

In the morning, they’re both still wearing their button-downs and their suit pants and they’re rumpled and a total mess, but Kent somehow doesn’t feel like the world’s worst screw-up anymore and if sleeping in Jeff’s bed in his suit is what helped him, then so be it. Jeff blinks at him sleepily, but he doesn’t say a word.

Kent doesn’t say anything either. He’s not sure what to say anymore. He shouldn’t be doing this. The last time he did this, it fucked everything up. He can’t keep being this selfish. 

He’ll definitely sleep in his own bed from now on. 

 

*

 

**July 2013**

 

Kent’s birthday parties have been strange ever since he started playing in the NHL. Most guys go home for the summer, spend time with their families, go on vacation, and Kent does all those things, too, but this year he did all of that exceptionally early.

They did make the playoffs and Kent had never been more relieved, because that was one less thing to make him feel like an absolutely failure. 

After their first round exit this postseason, Kent and a bunch of the boys packed their bags and went to Greece together, then they went their separate ways. Kent went back to New York, where he hung out with his mom and his stepdad and Crabby, then he went golfing with a bunch of his old friends, caught up with his old coach, worked at a hockey camp in his hometown for two weeks, visited his grandparents, but now he’s back in Vegas. Kit is happy that she doesn’t have to share a cat tree with a big orange monster anymore.

Really, though, Kit and Crabby did get along well enough, but Kit is the only Princess in Kent’s life and she didn’t take well to Kent paying attention to another cat. Often enough, Kent ended up with two cats snuggled up to him when he took a nap. 

A few of the guys are back in town, so Kent invites them all out to a club on the 3 rd , along with their girlfriends and whoever else they want to bring. They’re going to dance and get drunk and have a good time. Kent has never had problems getting into clubs, even when he wasn’t 21 yet. He’s Kent Parson. He’s a big shot NHL player. Everyone wanted him in their club. Tonight they have their own booth in the VIP area and Jeff brings Kent a little crown that says “Birthday Princess” and Kent is having the time of his life.

The owner buys them a bottle of champagne, they run into Taylor Swift and Kent gets a picture with her – the only thing that would make his day even more perfect would be if Britney made an appearance and sang him a song, but he’ll take whatever the universe throws at him tonight. 

He goes dancing with Jeff and a girl he met at the bar, and the girl is definitely more than interested in getting into Jeff’s pants, but when they return to their booth a little while later, Jeff somehow manages to ditch her somewhere. 

“Where’s your girl?” Kent asks.

“Umm,” Jeff only says and that’s the only explanation Kent gets. 

When midnight rolls around, they’re back on the dancefloor and everyone around him is wishing him a happy birthday. Jeff hugs him and Kent holds on for a moment, because he’s a little drunk and a little unsteady on his feet. Jeff laughs into his ear and makes sure that he stays upright, his arm wrapped tightly around Kent. 

Fuck, Kent just wants to dance with a guy. He wants to be kissed, and he doesn’t want it to be a random girl he’s not even attracted to. It’s his birthday and he doesn’t want to hide, just for one night he wants to be himself and dance with whoever he wants to dance with and fuck everyone who thinks it’s a big deal. But that’s too big a wish, even for Kent Parson. No one can make this one come true.

So he holds on to Jeff for a moment longer and ruffles his hair and then he slips away to get himself another drink. 

When they all head home, Jeff drags Kent with him and gets them a cab. “I’ll crash at your place tonight,” Jeff says, his words just the tiniest bit slurred. 

“Mhhmm,” Kent says and lets his head drop on Jeff’s shoulder as soon as they’re on the backseat. He gives the driver his address and tries to think of nothing at all as they drive past the twinkling lights of the city. 

He’s itching to reach out to Jeff, to get even closer to him than he already it. It’s stupid, but he just wants somebody’s hands on him, and he’s in a cab with his best friend and this is not the right time for sexual frustration. “Ugh,” he says.

“What?” Jeff asks. “Please tell me you’re not about to throw up.”

“I’m not,” Kent says, loud enough so their cab driver won’t get worried about Kent throwing up all over the backseat. 

Jeff shifts and puts his arm around Kent. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just tired,” Kent mutters. He doesn’t even really feel drunk anymore, just ready to pass out where he is. 

“Getting old.” Jeff laughs. “I’ll tuck you in, no worries. It’s your birthday.”

Jeff pays for the cab and Kent doesn’t complain. He lets Jeff nudge him out of the car, and into his building and into the elevator.

“Fuck,” Kent says and leans against Jeff, because he’s right there and he looks softer than the walls of the elevator. “I’m so tired.”

“Almost there,” Jeff says and his arm is back around Kent. 

Maybe that’s what Kent wanted. He can’t really make sense of it right now, but this is nice. His face is squashed against Jeff’s chest and it shouldn’t feel good, but it does. “I don’t wanna be sad on my birthday,” Kent mumbles. 

“What?” Jeff says.

“Nothing.”

“No, did you say… Parse, what’s wrong?”

“Tired.”

“Okay,” Jeff says and tugs Kent out of the elevator. They make it down the hall to Kent’s apartment without falling over and Jeff gently maneuvers Kent against the wall so he can unlock the door. Once it’s open, Jeff grabs him by the arm. “All right, here we go.”

“Thank you. Swoops. Swoopsie. Come on. Let’s sleep.” 

“Yeah, uh…”

Kent tugs him along. 

“Wait a second… Parse, I’m gonna crash on the couch.”

“Nah, it’s whatever, my bed is huge.”

“Parse…”

“What?”

Jeff stares at him for a moment, then he shakes his head. “Whatever.”

Kent is almost relieved when Jeff crawls into bed with him, letting out a heavy sigh as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

“Are you gonna stay for my big Fourth of July party tomorrow?” Kent asks.

“There’s a big Fourth for July party?”

“Yeah, it’s us and beer and pizza.”

“Sounds good,” Jeff says and yawns. “Good night, Parse.”

It’s almost morning, but Kent doesn’t point that out. He’s too focused on how much space there is between his and Jeff’s knees. It’s an inch. Maybe less. Kent screws his eyes shut. Time to sleep.

Kent wakes up with something soft tickling his arm. He doesn’t realize that it’s not Kit until he reaches out to scratches her head. Because the head he ends up scratching is Jeff’s.

“Wha–”

“You’re not Kit,” Kent says.

“Nope…” Jeff starts laughing, the mattress shaking. “Shit.”

“Shit,” Kent echoes. At least Jeff thinks it’s funny and not completely mortifying. “Anyway…” He pats Jeff’s head again. “Good morning, Princess.”

“Careful, the real Princess might get jealous,” Jeff says. “And then she’ll try to eat me.”

“No, come on, she’d never. She loves you.”

Jeff is really the only one of Kent’s teammates that Kit will even make an appearance for. If anyone else comes over, she’ll just hide out under Kent’s bed, or in his closet if he accidentally left the door open. 

Jeff hums and pulls at the sheets. 

Kent is wearing the shirt he was wearing last night, but he seems to have managed to take off his jeans before he went to sleep. For some reason, he can’t remember what exactly happened. He just knows that Jeff basically dragged him home. At least he doesn’t have the worst hangover of his life. That’s something. He still doesn’t feel like getting out of bed, though, and Jeff seems to have the exact same problem.

They stay right where they are for a little while longer, and Kent spends most of his time staring at the ceiling. 

Eventually, Jeff clears his throat. “I gotta tell you something.”

Kent looks over at Jeff, who’s frowning up at the ceiling like it’s hiding all the secrets of the universe from him. Jeff isn’t looking back at him, and that’s what worries Kent the most, because Jeff is a guy who looks you in the eye when he has something to tell you. “Hey, is everything okay?”

“No. Yes. I mean… Ugh.” Jeff takes a deep breath. “You’re my best friend.”

Kent almost says, _I know_ , but he bites his lip instead. There’s more coming, he can tell.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while and I don’t want things to be weird between us and I do realize that I just slept in your bed and I don’t want things to change, but I just… I need to tell someone.”

“Just spit it out,” Kent says. As long as Jeff didn’t kill a guy, they’ll be fine. Kent knows a thing or two about secrets. And how to keep them. 

“Remember when you asked me why I’ve never had a girlfriend?”

Honestly, Kent doesn’t remember. But it does sound like something ridiculous he would ask. “I asked you that?”

“You did. And I pretty much panicked like I’d never panicked before, because I… well, there’s a reason why I haven’t really had a girlfriend since high school.”

“Oh,” Kent says. See, he can put two and two together. He’s _never_ had a girlfriend. He just makes sure that he’s seen with a beautiful blonde girl often enough that no one will get suspicious and otherwise pretends that he’s keeping his private life private. 

“Yeah.”

“Swoops–”

“Wait,” Jeff says, “just… tell me we’re fine.”

“I was literally about to say that. Take a deep breath. We’re all good here.”

Kent almost wants to take Jeff’s hand. He almost wants to tell him the truth. It would be so easy now. Then he’d have someone to confide in.

_Just say it. Now Do it._

He doesn’t.

 

*

 

**December 2014**

 

It’s way past curfew when Kent gets back to the team hotel, but he had special permission to head out tonight. He wanted to visit an old friend, he said. Coach knows that Jack Zimmermann plays college hockey not too far from Boston; he said he doesn’t mind as long as Kent shows up for team breakfast in the morning. 

Being Kent Parson does have its perks. 

In the end, though, Kent’s evening didn’t quite go as planned. And maybe he should have seen it coming, maybe he should have known that Zimms wouldn’t be happy to see him. It’s been too long. Kent barged in on the life of a wholly different Jack Zimmermann. Not for the first time. He swung by a couple of years ago as well and that also didn’t go as well as he’d hoped. He should have just stayed in Boston, should have gone out for dinner with the guys, should have watched a boring movie with Jeff. 

He slips into the room he shares with Jeff and stumbles out of his clothes. He’s such an idiot. Going to Jack’s college, barging in on a party, trying to kiss him? How did that seem like a good idea? 

The idea of seeing Zimms again, though, knowing that he might sign with an NHL team next season, and that smidgen of hope that Zimms might come back to him… Well, he won’t. They’ll never play on the same team again, Kent will never have Zimms on his line again. Kent looks at Jeff, fast asleep in his bed. The thing is, maybe he doesn’t need Zimms. He wants him back, just because of how magical they were together, but he has Jeff now. They have their own kind of magic. 

And Jeff isn’t going anywhere. Right? He’s not. He’s– Kent takes a deep breath. Instead of slipping into his own bed, he shuffles over to Jeff’s and lies down on the empty side of the bed, on top of the covers. “Jeff?”

Jeff grunts and twitches, but he definitely isn’t awake.

“Swoops.” Kent gives him a poke. “Jeff. Hey.” 

“What the– Parse? What time is it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Late,” Kent says. “Jeff?”

“Why are you in my bed?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Fuck, okay,” Jeff says and starts pulling at the covers. “Here… your hands are freezing.”

Kent slips under the covers, feet bumping against Jeff’s bare legs.

“Fuck off with your cold as shit toes.”

“Sorry,” Kent whispers.

“Did you talk to him?”

“What?”

“To Zimmermann?” Jeff says. Kent didn’t tell him where he was going, but Jeff is a smart guy. Kent should have known that he’d figure it out. “Because that’s where you went, right? You were being all secretive, but… I mean–”

“Yeah,” Kent says, “that’s where I went.”

“So?”

“College parties are wild,” Kent says.

“That’s all?”

“Jeff, promise you won’t leave.”

“How did we go from college parties to me leaving this quickly?” Jeff asks. “Parse, what the fuck happened?”

“I just… you’re my guy. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“I’m not,” Jeff says, slightly exasperated. 

“Pinky promise?”

“I promise. No pinkies. Your hands are too fucking cold.”

“Fine,” Kent says. He feels a little better now. Less out of control. He’s not going to lose Jeff, too. 

“Can I go back to sleep now?” Jeff asks.

“I…” Kent can’t unload all of his crap on Jeff, not now, in the middle of the night, when they have a game tomorrow. Kent should go to sleep, too. He’s having one hell of a season and he’d prefer to keep his streak going. It’s the only thing that’s keeping him afloat these days. 

Jeff lets out a soft breath. “Tell me.”

“I was a real ass today,” Kent says. 

“You’re always a real ass.”

“No, this was… really bad. Like, horrible. Like, no apology in the world can fix this.”

“I can’t fix it for you either,” Jeff says. 

“I’m not asking you to,” Kent replies. “I just…” He knows that it’s time to let go, but he can’t bring himself to give up on that daydream that he’s been hanging on to. “Do you think everything happens for a reason?”

“No, sometimes things happen because we make choices,” Jeff says, his voice low, steady, “and sometimes we make the wrong choices and then we have to deal with the consequences.”

Kent sighs.

“Why did you go see him?”

“Because…”

“Because you’d rather play with him than with me?”

It’s funny, because a few hours ago Kent would have had to admit that there’s an inkling of truth in that. He’d never want to get rid of Jeff, though, but it only now occurs to him that he could have never had both. Anyway, the answer’s easy now. “No,” he says.

“No?”

Kent stares into the darkness of their room. Maybe it took this disastrous trip for him to realize this one thing – “No, because I don’t need him as long as I have you.” And maybe things do happen for a reason. Maybe he had to fuck things up with Zimms again to realize that he already has everything he needs. 

“Oh,” Jeff says. 

“And you’re not going anywhere, right?”

“I’m not,” Jeff says, his voice soft now. “I’ll stay as long as they let me.”

“Good.” 

“All right. Go to sleep.”

Kent is quiet for a moment, then he asks, “Here?”

“I don’t even give a shit,” Jeff says.

So Kent stays. And he goes to sleep. And in the morning, the night before doesn’t sting quite as much as he thought it would. Because when he wakes up, Jeff Troy smiles at him and then shoves him out of bed with a laugh.

Maybe Kent lost Zimms, maybe it was partly his fault, maybe there was a reason for it, but he’ll never lose Jeff. 

 

*

 

**February 2015**

 

“I can’t get up.”

“Parse. Please.”

“I seriously can’t.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“I’m injured.”

“Kit scratched your leg.”

“As I said… _injured_.”

“You’re just too lazy to get off your ass and drive home,” Jeff says. 

“Listen here, smartass, you’re a hundred percent right, but that’s not gonna make me move.”

“Fine,” Jeff says. “Then don’t.”

“I didn’t think it would be that easy,” Kent says. It’s true, he really doesn’t want to move, because he’s lazy and not in the mood for the very strenuous 10-minute drive between their houses. He also kinda really likes where he is right now. Sort of snuggled against Jeff in bed, watching a game on TV. He says sort of because there’s a blanket and some pillows between their legs, but Kent has scooted down a little and now his head is leaning against Jeff’s arm and that’s just… nice. 

“I just know you too well,” Jeff mumbles. He grabs his phone, which is also wedged between them. “Almost midnight.”

Kent hums. “Almost Valentine’s Day.”

Jeff groans and throws his phone back onto the duvet. 

The Aces’ PR crew filmed a Valentine’s Day video in the locker room earlier and they had to write each other cards and talk about what they’d get each other for Valentine’s Day and all that crap. Kent usually doesn’t mind doing these things, because the camera loves him and he knows the fans like it, but he’d rather wear an elf hat than talk about romance. Jeff clearly feels the same way.

“It’s just one day, and then the day after we can go to the store and buy cheap chocolate,” Kent says.

“All the cheap chocolate in the world can’t make me feel better about this,” Jeff grumbles.

“Dude…”

“No… honestly? It sucks. I’ll never have any of that…”

“What–”

“You know what I mean,” Jeff says. “No wife, no kids. All of that happy family crap. All I get to do is sleep with guys on other teams, because I know they won’t tell anyone.”

Now that is news to Kent. “You–”

Jeff shakes his head. “Sorry, forget that I said that. It’s just… I feel so fucking alone all the time. And forget that I said that, too.”

“Jeff.”

“No, let’s not… let’s just watch the game. I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” Kent says, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jeff takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear about… the gay thing. It’s not like we talk about it a lot.”

It’s true, it hardly ever comes up, but every time it does, Kent feels guilty because he’s still lying to Jeff. He just needs to get it over with. 

“Yeah,” Kent says. “I mean…” He grabs one of the closest pillows. He wonders if he should sit up for the official announcement, but eventually decides to stay where he is, with his head against Jeff’s arm. “I know how it feels.”

“Oh, come on, you’re going out with girls all the time, you’re just–”

“No… Jeff… _no_. What I’m saying is, I _know_. I’m… right there with you.” Fuck, why can’t he just say the words? _Yes, hello, I’m gay, whatever_. Maybe he’s bi and just prefers guys. It’s not like he hates going out with girls, but it’s also not like he’d go for girls if he didn’t feel like he had to. It’s confusing. 

Jeff is the one who bolts up straight and Kent ends up flopping down into the space Jeff just vacated. “Wait, what are you saying to me right now?” Jeff asks. 

“I’m saying that I’m– I like guys.”

“Shit.”

“Jeff…”

“And you’re telling me that now?” Jeff says. “Fuck, Parse, I told you two fucking years ago. And you’re telling me _now_? What, didn’t you trust me?”

“I–”

Jeff shakes his head. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I swear.”

“Of course I trust you,” Kent says quietly. “I just didn’t know how… I couldn’t. I wanted to, but there was never a good time and then I was scared because I was going so long without telling you and I didn’t want you to be mad. And now you’re mad.”

“I’m not mad,” Jeff says, nudges Kent back into an upright position and leans back again. “I’m not. Hey…” He wraps his arm around Kent. “Sorry. Come here.”

Kent realizes just how much he doesn’t give a shit anymore when he goes in for a full-body hug without even thinking about it. He plasters himself against Jeff and holds on, and Jeff holds him right back.

At this point, they both know that Kent is going to stay. He’s going to sleep right here in Jeff’s bed, as he’s done so often. It just happens. Kent wakes up, either in his own bed or in Jeff’s, and Jeff is sleeping next to him. Sometimes he’s drooling a little, and sometimes he’s snoring, but softly, like a kitten. 

Kent isn’t sure when exactly he stopped trying to avoid this. He’s been falling asleep next to Jeff a lot during the last couple of weeks, and it’s just a thing now. Jeff would complain about it if he had a problem with it, that’s for sure, because Jeff is pretty good at giving Kent shit and most of the time he actually deserves it. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Kent says.

“You told me now,” Jeff says. 

Kent sighs and scoots even closer to Jeff. 

Huffing out a quiet laugh, Jeff rests his chin on top of Kent’s head. “So, I guess you’re not going home?”

No, he’s not going home. 

 

*

 

**May 2015**

 

“Swoops?” Kent knocks on Jeff’s hotel room door. Again. Because apparently Jeff is ignoring him. “Come on, I know you’re in there.”

No reply.

Kent knocks again. He’ll keep knocking. 

Canada lost their first game at Worlds earlier today, while Kent was off destroying France. The hockey team, not the entire country. He decided to go to Worlds after the Aces exited the playoffs early this year. Jeff got a call from the Canadian team about ten minutes after Kent got a call from Team USA. 

“Dude, come on, it’s just me,” Kent says. 

Again, nothing. 

“I just wanna hang out. I’ll keep the talking to a minimum.”

A few more seconds tick by, but then the door swings open. When Kent steps into Jeff’s hotel room, Jeff is already walking back to his bed. 

“Hey,” Kent says. 

Jeff grumbles something at him and drops back into bed, facedown. 

“It was only one game,” Kent says. “You’ll probably win every single game from now on and you’ll get a nice and shiny gold medal.” Actually, Kent wants that nice and shiny gold medal, but for now he can pretend that he doesn’t want it that badly. 

“I thought you weren’t gonna talk?” Jeff says.

“Fine,” Kent says and jumps into Jeff’s bed. “I’ll stop talking right now.”

Jeff hums and starts fiddling with his phone. 

Kent manages to sit still for a while and he’s really impressed with himself. He gets out his phone as well, but Jeff is right there and Kent can’t go too long without bugging Jeff when he’s right there. He pokes the sole of Jeff’s foot with his toes. 

“Stop,” Jeff says.

“Do you have snacks?”

“No.”

Kent looks around Jeff’s room. “But you always have snacks.” There’s a plastic bag on the desk. It’s basically screaming, _Yes, there are snacks in here_. “Jeff…”

“What?”

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Babe,” Kent says lightly. “Honeybunny.”

“Can you go back to not talking?” Jeff asks. “Please?”

Honestly, Kent is a little bit worried. Jeff usually doesn’t get that upset about losses, he’s the guy who was in the locker room after they lost Game 1 of the first round, reminding them all that it was just one game and that they could still turn things around. They didn’t, but that’s not the point. Jeff believes in his team, no matter if it’s the Aces or his national team, so there’s something really strange going on.

He leans closer to Jeff and tentatively puts his hand on the small of his back. “Hey…”

Jeff lets out a long-suffering sigh. 

Kent slowly trails his fingers up Jeff’s spine and lightly pinches the back of his neck. “I just wanna help.”

“I know,” Jeff says. “I can’t tell you, though.”

“You _can’t_?”

“It’s not just about me. It’s about a guy. On another team. Who just so happens to be here as well.”

“Oh,” Kent says. 

“Yeah. And–”

“Was he a dick to you?” Kent asks. “Want me to punch him in the face? I know you won’t tell me who he is, but we’ll figure something out.”

“Parse,” Jeff says, his voice serious. “We both know that you don’t punch people. Anyway, it’s not like that. And it’s not like it was anything serious, he just doesn’t wanna keep doing this anymore and that’s… well, it is what it is.”

“So you had a super secret boyfriend and you didn’t tell me about him?” Kent asks. He ignores that little twinge of jealousy he feels. Jeff is allowed to have secrets, especially when there are other people involved. 

“You never tell me about your super secret boyfriends,” Jeff replies.

“I don’t have any,” Kent says. Or at least he hasn’t had one in a very long time. He gets antsy. Sometimes he’ll flirt with a guy in a club and then he’ll duck back into the crowd and disappear, because everything else would feel too risky. No super secret boyfriends for him. 

Jeff rolls onto his back, looking up at Kent with his sad doe eyes. “Do you think anyone’s ever gonna come out? I mean, if someone goes first, we could all–”

“Go next?” Kent asks. “Really? Would you?”

“I…” Jeff shakes his head. “I don’t know. I take it you wouldn’t?”

Honestly? Kent has never thought about it.

Okay, that’s a lie. He’s thought about it, but it was this elaborate fantasy, where he could just be who he is and nobody cares and he can be out there kissing… someone. In that particular fantasy, it might have been someone he really shouldn’t kiss. 

Kent stares back at Jeff. “Everything would change.”

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “Would that be a bad thing, though?”

“Yes,” Kent says without missing a beat.

“Would it be all bad?” Jeff’s voice is strangely soft right now, like they’re having the most important conversation of their lives. He talks to Kent like that when Kent is being a huge ass and Jeff is trying to tell him to get it together without making it worse. He’s talking to him like what he’s saying is something real that’s going to happen and not just something that’s merely nice to imagine.

“Jeff, be honest. Are you…” Kent squints at him. “Are you thinking about coming out?”

“Sometimes,” Jeff says. 

“Sometimes,” Kent echoes. “Are you fucking–”

“Stop,” Jeff says. “Just stop. It’s not like I’m going to do it. Relax. It’s not about you.”

Kent huffs, but Jeff is right. It’s not about him, so why does it feel like it is? 

“Someone’s going to have to be the first,” Jeff says lowly.

“Yeah, maybe in a million years.”

Jeff hums. “I don’t think it’ll take that long.”

“Why does that sound like you know something that I don’t know?” Kent says.

“Nah, I don’t know anything,” Jeff says. “I just know what it feels like to be tired of hiding. And things are changing.”

Kent thinks about their team at home, about the stuff the guys say in the locker room. “Are they really?”

“Our boys are just loud-mouthed dumb fucks,” Jeff says. “I think the majority of them would be okay with a gay teammate in the end.”

“In the end,” Kent says. It would be such a mess; he doesn’t even want to think about it. At this point he’s pretty good at ignoring the jokes, but he can’t even imagine what would happen if someone in their locker room came out. That’s not a good sign if you ask him. 

“Parse…” Jeff gives him a nudge. “You look like you’re two seconds away from a panic attack. Come on…” He tugs at the sleeve of Kent’s shirt. “Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to. Breathe.”

“Ugh.” 

Kent hates change. He’s terrified of it. When he was seventeen, he didn’t care so much. He’d sit in Zimms’s lap at parties and act like it’s the most hilarious thing he’s ever done. He didn’t overthink it, but here’s what happened when he didn’t overthink it: He was reckless and stupid, and Zimms nearly fucking died, and maybe it wasn’t his fault, but he also wasn’t paying attention, because he was so busy not overthinking things. 

“You know, even if ten dudes come out, it’s not like you have to jump on the bandwagon,” Jeff says. 

“I know.”

“You can do whatever you want.”

Kent rolls his eyes. “I _know_.”

“So… chill.”

Kent sticks out his bottom lip and decides to lie down on top of Jeff. 

“Fuck, a little warning next time?” Jeff grumbles. He wraps his arms around Kent and shifts him a little bit, so he’s not directly on top of him anymore. Kent doesn’t mind; this is a lot less awkward. He still has his head on Jeff’s chest, and an arm wrapped around his waist, and his leg thrown over Jeff’s.

It’s starting to get dark. They should probably start thinking about dinner, but at the moment Kent feels a lot like ordering room service and never moving again. 

“Can I stay here?” Kent asks. 

“Don’t you have your own room to go back to?”

“I do, but it’s not as nice as yours.” He pats Jeff’s chest. “Doesn’t come with any good pillows.”

“I see. Eh, whatever, I don’t mind.”

Kent had a feeling that Jeff would say that. He always lets Kent stay. Maybe it’s just because he feels bad for him, because Kent is such a gigantic, lonely mess. Kent sighs. “What are you doing this summer?”

“Home,” Jeff says. “Golf. I don’t know.”

“Toronto?” Kent asks.

“Probably.”

“Hmm…”

“You can always come visit me,” Jeff says. “My mom loves you. I’m actually pretty sure that my mom loves you more than me.”

“Shut up, that’s not true.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s not, but she thinks you’re so polite and charming. Clearly she has no idea what she’s talking about.”

Kent pokes Jeff in the ribs. “Excuse you, I’m definitely more charming than you. Maybe not as polite. You’re too Canadian.”

Jeff laughs. “Anyway, come by, eh?”

“Yeah,” Kent says.

 

*

 

**July 2015**

 

Driving to Canada seemed like a great idea when Kent first started thinking about it. It’s not that far, just a couple of hours in the car. He flew home, left Kit in the care of his mom and Crabby, and then rented a car to go up to Toronto. 

The thing is, road trips are more fun when there’s more than one person involved. So after about two hours of driving, Kent is dreadfully bored and starting to consider finding the closest airport to fly to Jeff, because this isn’t fun anymore. He drives for another half hour and then stops for lunch. He buys himself a gigantic burger at a somewhat shady-looking roadside diner, and orders extra fries and a milkshake to appease himself.

The rest of the drive is still boring, but he puts on his favorite playlist, so he at least has something to sing along to. Going across the border also doesn’t take as long as he assumed it would, so when he arrives at Jeff’s parents’ place, he’s in an okay mood. 

He’s instantly in an even better mood, when he rings the doorbell and Jeff comes sprinting around the house, in swimming trunks, a towel flung over his shoulders, his hair wet. “Parse,” he says and gives him a wet hug, “there you are.”

“What, have you been waiting for me?”

Jeff gives him another squeeze. “Yeah,” he says.

Seeing Jeff in the summer is always a little strange. This summery Jeff in his swimming trunks, not quite as pale as the wintery Jeff, sunglasses perched on his nose, it’s a different kind of Jeff. And Kent kinda likes this Jeff who’s still hugging him.

“Hey,” Kent says and pats Jeff’s back. His skin is soft and warm and maybe Kent is just a little too aware of that. 

“Hey,” Jeff says and slowly lets him go. “You got a bag?”

“In the trunk,” Kent says. 

They get his stuff – Kent brought his skates and a stick just in case. He knows there’s a rink not too far from the Troys’ house; it’s where Jeff’s dad taught him how to skate. Jeff took him there the first time Kent came by to visit him and told him about his dad and how he came to every single one of his games. “Never missed a single one,” Jeff said.

Kent wishes he could say the same about his dad. His stepdad does a much better job at coming to his games. Every time Kent is even in the general vicinity of New York state, his stepdad and his mom will drive to wherever he’s playing. His stepdad is also the one who gets an invite for the Aces’ annual dads trip.

Kent’s bag and equipment get dumped in Jeff’s room, where the pullout couch is ready for Kent to sleep on, even though Jeff does make a halfhearted, very Canadian attempt to give Kent his bed. 

About five minutes after he’s arrived, Kent is surrounded by a gaggle of Jeff’s nieces and nephews and cousins. Jeff’s older brother plays hockey for the Schooners’ farm team and his kids are clearly starting to get into hockey as well, so Kent and Jeff quickly get roped into a backyard game. It’s Kent and Jeff against the rest of them, because apparently they have an unfair advantage just because they’re NHL players.

Jeff’s littlest niece, who apparently hasn’t shown much of an interest in hockey so far, asks Kent to show her his stick after the game and she traces the tape with her finger and asks him why he uses white tape when her uncle Jeff uses black. She seems to be fascinated by the whole thing and tries to shoot a ball into the net with Kent’s stick, which is way too big for her, but she won’t listen to all the well-meaning uncles who try to convince her to use a smaller one instead. Kent already knows that he won’t be taking that stick home. 

Jeff’s brother gets the grill started for dinner and Kent helps Jeff’s mom in the kitchen, cutting vegetables and entertaining the masses. 

It’s late when they finally go to bed, after a playing a few board games with the kids and drinking a couple of beers. Kent gets to use the bathroom first and makes himself comfortable in Jeff’s bed, answering a couple of texts. He ran out of battery a few hours ago and forgot to plug his phone in. He’s pretty sure that his phone hasn’t run out of battery ever since he got it, but he was distracted.

He’s a different Kent Parson in the summer, too. 

“I thought you were fine with the pullout couch,” Jeff says when he joins Kent on the bed. “I mean, you can still have the bed, but…”

“Nah, I just wanted to plug in my phone,” Kent says. “Hey... come closer…”

“No, not a selfie,” Jeff grumbles, but obediently leans in, making a face at the camera. He does that. It’s his _Parse won’t stop taking selfies_ face. Kent knows it well. 

“Are you posting that on Instagram?”

“Of course,” Kent says, “I’m all about giving the people what they want.”

Jeff huffs, but it sounds suspiciously like a laugh, and he drops his head on Kent’s shoulder. 

“Sup,” Kent says.

“Tired,” Jeff replies.

“Is that a not-so-subtle way of telling me to get the fuck out of your bed?”

“Hmm… I don’t even care,” Jeff mumbles. 

Kent laughs and wraps his arm around Jeff. “Okay, time for lil Jeff to go to sleep.”

“Are you gonna tell me a bedtime story?” Jeff asks and snuggles closer.

“Once upon a time there was a guy called Jeff,” Kent says. He can’t really think of anything else right now, because Jeff is hugging him and all of this started out as a joke, but now they’re cuddling and it’s giving Kent heart palpitations, because the last time someone gave him a good hug was… a long time ago. It was Jeff. At Worlds. Before they went their separate ways for a couple of weeks. 

Jeff gives Kent’s chest a light tap. “What happened to the guy called Jeff?”

“He fell asleep,” Kent says. “The end.”

Jeff laughs under his breath. Poor guy is clearly exhausted and Kent’s pretty tired, too. They did spend a lot of time running around with a handful of kids this afternoon. And Kent left his mom’s place at eight in the morning, so he’s surprised that he’s still awake.

“We’re sleeping in tomorrow, right?” Kent asks.

Jeff doesn’t reply, he only makes a sleepy noise. Kent guesses that that’s probably a yes. He reaches out to turn off the bedside lamp. He could tug his arm free, very gently of course, and go sleep on that pullout couch, but maybe he’ll just stay right here. Jeff looks comfortable. So this is fine. Kent will just go lie down on the pullout couch once Jeff doesn’t have his head on Kent’s arm anymore. 

Of course Kent falls asleep and doesn’t wake up until the sun comes up, peeking through a gap in the curtains. He blinks and turns his head away from the thin strip of sunlight that’s inching closer to his face.

Jeff is still in bed with him, still fast asleep, a little further down on the bed than Kent, but still curled against him. They’re barely touching – Jeff’s knee against Kent’s leg, Jeff’s forehead against Kent’s arm. Kent doesn’t move. Not only does he not want to wake up Jeff, he also wants to be here, just like this, for a little while longer.

He knows that he should have made an effort to stay awake and should have slept on the stupid couch, but the truth is that he sleeps better with Jeff next to him. Jeff doesn’t snore, at least not loudly, he doesn’t hog the covers and he doesn’t kick. He’s a pleasure to sleep next to. 

Kent isn’t sure how much time passes as he lies next to Jeff with his eyes closed. A while after he woke up, he hears footsteps in the hallway, then hushed voices, then someone shouts, “Pancakes!” Two nieces of Jeff’s stayed the night so their parents could run some errands this morning and they’re clearly wide awake. 

Jeff groans, wrinkles his nose, freezes, and opens his eyes. “Oh…”

“It’s just me,” Kent says. “Sorry.”

“Hmm…” Jeff scoots away from him and stretches. He’s wearing an old Aces shirt from several seasons ago. It looks soft and worn and Kent sort of wants to steal it just because it looks so comfortable. 

Kent gives Jeff’s arm a light tap. “Hey, Jeff, I have an idea.”

“Ugh, I hate it when you say that.”

“Hey, maybe it’s a good one.”

“Fine,” Jeff says and smiles, “what is it?”

“Well, the plan was that I was going to stay for the weekend, right? So I’ve been thinking, what if I do stay for the weekend and on Monday we hop in the car and go on a little road trip. You can show me Canada.”

“Parse, what makes you think that I know things about Canada?”

“You grew up here,” Kent says. 

“We come here several times every season,” Jeff says, “you’ve already seen the most important stuff.”

“Okay, well, it was just an idea.” Kent shrugs. “We don’t have to go.”

“No, I mean…” Jeff is quiet for a moment. “Yeah, whatever, let’s do that.”

“We can eat terrible food and sleep in crappy motels.”

“Please, you don’t actually want to sleep in in crappy motels,” Jeff says. “Remember when I asked you if you wanted to come camping with me like two years ago and you laughed at me for half an hour?”

“Camping is different,” Kent grumbles. “I mean, sleeping on the ground? In a tent? No way. And going fishing? Like, come on. These hands won’t go anywhere close to a dead fish.”

“Yeah, okay, I get it.” Jeff reaches over and puts his hand on Kent’s mouth. “You can stop.”

Kent licks Jeff’s hand, because of course he does.

Jeff pulls his hand away and then swats at him. “You’re disgusting.”

“At least I’ve never touched a dead fish,” Kent says. 

Jeff doesn’t reply, he just gives Kent a shove. He slides out of bed and entirely ungracefully lands on the pullout couch. “Asshole.”

With a huge shit-eating grin on his face, Jeff appears at the edge of his bed. “Hi, there.”

Kent flips him off, grinning back at him. That road trip was a great idea; he honestly can’t wait to spend a few more days with Jeff. 

 

*

 

**October 2015**

 

“Swoops, buddy, can you get up?” Scrappy asks. 

Jeff is on his hands and knees, which is a lot better than half a minute ago when he was just lying flat on the ice. 

“You can’t fucking tell me that that wasn’t a late hit,” Kent shouts at one of the refs. “Are you gonna call that or what?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply and bends down, so he’s face to face with Jeff. “Hey… you okay?”

Kent is pretty sure that Jeff tries to say fuck, but all that comes out in the end is, “Fffff…”

Scrappy is looking at the bench, ready to wave over a trainer to get Jeff to the locker room just in case, but if Jeff can’t get up on his own, they’re definitely in deep shit. Jeff _always_ gets up in the end, because he’s trying to be tough or some shit. 

Jeff huffs and tries to sit up, but he’s clearly still in pain. Kent grabs him by the arm and helps him up and the whole arena, previously quiet, starts to cheer. Scrappy is quick to grab Jeff’s other arm and together they manage to pull him over to the bench, where Jeff is whisked away, down the tunnel. 

“Hope he’s okay,” Scrappy says as they sit down on the bench. 

Kent nods. Scrappy is a good dude who really cares about the guys. He signed a contract with Vegas two years ago, and he’s mostly quiet, but he’s also stellar at being quietly disappointed. You don’t want Scrappy to give you the Disappointed Dad look, honestly. 

They don’t see Jeff until the end of the game. Kent has rarely left so quickly – he usually sticks around to high-five all of his guys, but today he gets in the goalie line and then instantly leaves the ice. Someone tells him that he’s going to be on media as he heads down the tunnel, but he barely hears it.

Jeff is in the locker room, already dressed and ready to go home, smiling when he sees Kent. Well, that’s a good sign. 

“Everything okay?” Kent asks.

“Yeah, that hit just kinda knocked the air right out of me,” Jeff says. “Might have some bruised ribs.” And by that he obviously means that he _most definitely_ has some bruised ribs.

“Fuck,” Kent says. He almost wants to reach out and– What? Give Jeff a hug? Sure, that’d definitely help with those bruised ribs. “Hey, how about you come to my place? I have some really nice ice packs.”

“That sounds like the worst pickup line ever,” Jeff says. “Anyway, I have ice packs at home, too. No worries.”

“Jeff,” Kent says, a little exasperated. It was never about the ice packs. He just wants Jeff where he can see him and make sure that he’s really a hundred percent okay. 

Jeff grins. “Aw, are you worried about me?”

“Of course I’m fucking worried about you,” Kent mutters.

“Well, better hit the showers, Parse,” Jeff says. “They don’t want me to drive anyway, so might not be a terrible if you give me a ride.”

Kent rolls his eyes at him and stalks off. 

The other guys are starting to trickle into the locker room, most of them going past Jeff’s stall so they can give him a high five. 

Kent does media, actually tries to be amenable today so he won’t have to answer too many extra questions, then he gets Jeff and takes him to his car. Jeff still looks a little shaken up and sighs heavily when he sits down in the passenger seat. 

“Why do I always get injured in matinee games?” Jeff asks.

“Hey, don’t let that become a thing,” Kent says. They play a couple of matinee games every season and going into them thinking you’ll get injured is a not a superstition you want.

Jeff huffs. “I won’t. But… you know, it keeps happening.”

“Had nothing to do with you, though. It was just a bad hit.”

“I know,” Jeff says and lets his head fall back against the headrest. “So, what are you gonna make me for dinner?”

“Um, I’ll order you whatever you want?”

“I can live with that,” Jeff says. “I think I have to take a nap first, though.”

“Nap sounds good,” Kent agrees.

When they get to his place, Kent ushers Jeff up the stairs to his bedroom, because he wants Jeff to be as comfortable as possible, finds a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for Jeff, and then he checks on Kit, so his Princess won’t feel neglected. Jeff is already asleep when Kent returns to his bedroom. 

Kent gets out of his suit as well and curls up on the other side of the bed, making sure Jeff has enough room and tries to go to sleep. Except for some reason he can’t. Because Jeff is sleeping next to him and it’s distracting today. Today, Kent keeps peeking at Jeff. He’s still sleeping soundly, his eyelids fluttering a little when the door creaks and Kit comes tiptoeing into the room and jumps onto the bed. Jeff is one of those people who have stupidly long eyelashes. Like, such great eyelashes. 

It’s weird. The longer Kent stares at Jeff, the more he wants to lean over and, like, kiss his forehead or some bullshit like that. The realization of it is horrible. Does he really want to kiss Jeff’s forehead? Maybe his cheek. Or his temple. Shit.

There’s no way he’s going to sleep now. 

This is bad. This is a disaster of epic proportions. 

Jeff frowns in his sleep and then blinks, his frown growing deeper when he realizes that Kent is staring at him. It’s probably too late for Kent to pretend that he’s actually fast asleep. 

“Why are you staring?” Jeff asks.

“Just making sure you’re okay,” Kent replies. 

“I’m fine,” Jeff says, starts to stretch and winces. “Okay, maybe I’m not.”

“I’m gonna go order food, okay?” Kent says. He’s not sure why he reaches out. Maybe he was going for a gentle hair ruffle. Really, that was probably it. In the end, he runs his fingers through Jeff’s hair and brushes a few strands away from his forehead and that’s just really not a thing that they do. 

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “Food. Sounds good.”

“Good,” Kent says, quickly pulling his hand away. “Yeah. Okay.”

He escapes quickly. Well, he escapes from his bedroom. He has a feeling that there’s no escaping the Jeff situation. 

 

*

 

**December 2015**

 

Kent can’t stop crying. Whatever he does, he just honestly can’t stop. He’s tried all sorts of things to make himself stop, but nothing has worked so far. 

He wasn’t going to text Jeff today. The Aces are having the day off and Kent was going to spend it far, far away from Jeff and his hair and his abs and his eyelashes. Because that’s a thing now and it’s only getting worse. But Kent really needs a hug. And he needs a hug from Jeff because he’s really good at those.

Kent grabs his phone and calls Jeff. 

Jeff picks up on the second ring. “Parser, what’s up?”

Kent can hear noises in the background, which means that Jeff is out running errands like a normal person and he should probably hang up right now. Kent clears his throat. “What are you doing?”

“Umm, I’m at Home Depot,” Jeff says. “Parse, are you–”

“Oh, okay, never mind, have fun,” Kent says quickly. Jeff has been trying to build things in his free time, because clearly he needed some whacky hobby that’ll likely end with Jeff accidentally breaking his fingers with a hammer. 

“No, wait,” Jeff says. “Wait. What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine,” Kent says, but that just makes him cry again. 

“Parse?”

Kent hiccoughs in reply. 

“I’ll be there soon, okay?” Jeff says.

Kent sniffles. “You don’t have to come,” he says, although that was exactly the point in calling Jeff.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Jeff gets to Kent’s place surprisingly fast. He shows up in Kent’s bedroom with a bag full of donuts that ends up on Kent’s bedside table. 

“What’s wrong?” Jeff asks as he climbs into bed with him. “Is your mom okay?”

Yeah, that makes Kent cry again. Great. 

“Shit,” Jeff says and climbs into bed. “What happened?”

“My mom is fine,” Kent chokes out. 

Jeff lets out a small sigh. “Okay. Then who…?”

Kent can’t even say anything right now, that’s how hard he’s crying. Jeff seems to realize that he won’t get anything out of Kent, so he puts an arm around Kent and pulls him closer until Kent is tucked against him, face buried in Jeff’s shirt.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” Jeff says quietly.

Kent is really trying here, but it’s not going too well. It takes him a couple of minutes to stop sniffling. 

“Mom had to take Crabby to the vet this morning,” Kent eventually says. 

“Oh,” Jeff says. “Is she sick?”

“She’ll be fine,” Kent says.

Jeff gently pats his back. “That’s… good.”

Okay, so, Kent definitely knows that he’s being ridiculous. Crabby is totally fine. Nothing’s wrong. When his mom called him, she literally said, “I had to take Crabby to the vet’s earlier, but don’t worry, she’s okay.” So he doesn’t exactly have a reason to be sobbing into Jeff’s shirt right now. He gets that. But his brain has trouble being rational about this. 

“It’s just…” Kent sniffles again. “One day, Crabby’s gonna die. She’s really old. And Kit–”

“Hey,” Jeff says, “Kit is totally fine.”

“I know,” Kent whines. “But one day, she might not be fine and then she’s gonna be gone and then I’ll have no one.” He’s been thinking about it ever since his mom called this morning. Kit isn’t that old, but she’ll get older and that’s just not allowed. He doesn’t want to deal with that. Ever. 

“Parse,” Jeff says and there it is, that hug Kent needed so badly, “you’ll always have me. I promise.”

“Okay, but then you also have to promise that I get to die first.”

“This conversation is becoming really fucked up really quickly.”

“Shut up,” Kent grumbles.

Jeff does shut up, because he does that when he’s asked to, but then he also tries to pull away, so Kent grabs a handful of Jeff’s shirt. “I’ll be right back,” Jeff says. 

Kent lets him go and Jeff does return quickly, now carrying Kit. Kent has no idea how Jeff convinced Kit to be his friend – she won’t let the other guys touch her. Maybe Scrappy if she’s feeling generous. She doesn’t have any problems with Jeff, though.

“Here,” Jeff says and sets Kit down on Kent’s bed.

Kent coaxes her over to him and she goes immediately because his Princess loves him and she’s so good and so soft and he doesn’t deserve her. He hugs her against his chest and looks up at Jeff. “Are you going back to Home Depot?”

“No. I figured you might need another hug.”

Kent sticks out his bottom lip and nods. He needs several hugs. “I’m sorry,” he says when Jeff gets into bed with him again. 

“It’s okay,” Jeff says. He reaches out to pet Kit and she starts purring. 

Jeff is also good and Kent doesn’t deserve him. Maybe he’s not soft – actually his hair is pretty soft. Kent knows that and he hates that he does. Anyway. Jeff just accepts all these weird things about him like they’re perfectly normal; he ignores what a mess Kent is on most days. Kent has no idea how he does it. 

It’s taken Kent years to learn how to deal with the mess that he is. 

“Kent,” Jeff says. 

“Yeah?”

“You’ll be okay,” Jeff says and takes Kent’s hand. Kit is still between them, now curled up into a soft little ball, and it occurs to Kent that this is quite nice. Jeff and Kit in his bed, his feet pressed against Jeff’s like an afterthought. It’s nice.

Kent closes his eyes. They feel itchy from all the crying. 

Jeff hums lowly and lets go of Kent’s hand and a moment later Kent feels fingers lightly carding through his hair. He doesn’t open his eyes, because he’s afraid that Jeff will stop if he does. This is another one of those things that they don’t do, but they’ve been doing a lot of things they usually don’t do and Kent has been trying to go with it and not get his hopes up, to feel absolutely nothing in the presence of Jeff Troy, but his heart still skips a beat every time Jeff touches him. 

When Kent falls asleep, he knows that Jeff will still be there when he wakes up. 

 

*

 

**January 2016**

 

“Are you crying?”

“I’m cutting onions, you absolute dipshit,” Jeff says and throws his diced onions in a pan. “If you complain, I’m not sharing the food.”

“Hey,” Kent says. He leans against his kitchen island and picks up a lemon from his fruit bowl. It’s as hard as a rock. Kent doesn’t even remember buying lemons, so it must have been there for a while. “Is that how you treat your friend who dropped everything to pick you up at the airport?”

“What exactly did you drop? Your xbox controller?”

Kent flips him off. It’s the first day of the Aces’ bye week and Jeff was going to go up to Canada for his mom’s birthday, but his flight got cancelled due to the weather in Toronto. He called Kent and asked him to pick him up when it became clear that he just wouldn’t be able to get on a flight today. Kent, being the good friend and responsible captain that he is, obviously offered to pick Jeff up at the airport when Jeff told him that he couldn’t leave today. 

And he obviously invited Jeff over to his house, since he’s not going anywhere either. He did think about it, but in the end he decided that he wasn’t going to join all the guys who were taking their girlfriends to Mexico, because he’s not ready to be the ultimate third wheel. He has vague plans of driving to LA and maybe spend a day at Disneyland, because he fucking deserves a day at Disneyland, but other than that, he’ll just hang out at his pool and play video games and watch movies.

“I hope my mom won’t be mad,” Jeff says. “I gotta send her the present I got for her tomorrow.”

Kent joins Jeff at the stove and peers into the various pots and pans that Jeff has lined up. Kent didn’t even know he owned some of those. “It’s not like you can control the weather.”

“Still,” Jeff says. “She was so happy that her birthday was right in the middle of our bye week and that I could be there for once and now I’m missing it again.”

“I’m sorry,” Kent says and leans in to give Jeff a hug. 

Jeff wraps his arm around Kent’s shoulders and stirs the sauce he’s making. It feels like a perfectly normal thing for them to be standing here like this. It actually takes Kent several minutes to remember that it’s not. 

He clears his throat and quickly stands upright. “Anyway…”

Jeff shoots him a look with those soft brown eyes that Kent has real trouble looking away from these days. Kent can’t really tell what that look means, but it’s definitely not a, _You’re so annoying, Parse_ , or a, _Why are you like this, Parse?_ It’s gentle, and it’s fond, and it’s the kind of look you get lost in. 

Kent does his best not to get lost. He’s been doing his best for weeks. 

Jeff reaches out, fingers trailing down Kent’s arm. “You–” He shakes his head. “Wanna get two plates?”

See, Kent understands what that means. He’s supposed to walk two steps, open the cupboard and grab two plates. It’s not hard. But he still can’t stop staring at Jeff, who still has onion tears clinging to his ridiculously long eyelashes. 

Jeff clears his throat. “Parse?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to stop looking at me like that,” Jeff says, his voice soft. 

Kent doesn’t ask, _Like what?_ He knows how he’s looking at Jeff right now. He knows that Jeff has eyes and is a pretty smart guy, so he’s probably figured out that Kent can’t look away. Maybe he’s even figured out that Kent doesn’t _want_ to look away. “Why?” Kent asks.

“Because… you’re…” Jeff pulls the pan off the stove and turns it off. He’s not done cooking. “Parse… come on.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this,” Jeff says. 

Kent swallows hard. It looks like they’re on the exact same page here, but that’s hardly surprising. They’re Kent and Jeff. They’ve been on the same page for years, even before all of this started to happen. “We can’t?” Kent asks. 

“We shouldn’t.”

“So is that a no?”

Jeff stares at him. His fingers are back on Kent’s arm, his touch light, barely there. “No,” he says, “it’s not a no.”

One of them is going to have to take a step closer, and Kent isn’t sure which one of them it’s going to be. Everything’s going to change. 

No. Everything has changed already. They’re not who they were back when they played their first game with the Aces. They’re who they were when Jeff ended up on Kent’s line. They’re not who they were when Jeff spent all those nights at Kent’s apartment, playing video games. 

Kent has changed so much, he barely recognizes who they were anymore. Back then, this would have been a complete disaster. It would have ruined them. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. They would have never made it here. But now? Now they’re different. Now they’re… well, maybe they’re not all grown up, but they’ve gotten pretty good at pretending. 

“Are you in?” Kent asks. 

Jeff nods. “All in.”

Kent didn’t expect any less. Jeff is always all in. Kent takes a step closer to Jeff and Jeff meets him halfway to kiss him. Kent isn’t sure what he was expecting. Well, he was expecting a kiss. And it is a kiss. And maybe Kent has a terrible memory of all the other kisses in his life, but he’d swear that this is the best one yet. 

He’s imagined kissing Jeff before. He can admit that now. He’s imagined it so many times that he was starting to drive himself crazy because he was so sure that it was never going to happen, but here they are. Here they are, with Jeff’s lips on his, and Jeff’s fingers in his hair, his other arm wrapped firmly around Kent’s waist, here they are, in his kitchen, which was really not where he imagined this would happen, here they are, closer than they ever were before, neither of them willing to let go. 

Kent can’t help but wonder for how long Jeff has wanted this, if it’s just a spur of the moment sort of thing or if he’s been imagining this, too. 

Jeff pulls at his hair, just a little, just enough for Kent to notice, and he gasps, fingers digging into Jeff’s back. Jeff stops kissing him then, but he doesn’t let go of him, just stands there with the tip of his nose touching the tip of Kent’s nose, like he couldn’t stand putting any more space between them.

“Okay,” Jeff says. “Okay. That was…”

“Okay?” Kent asks.

“Not exactly the word I’d use,” Jeff replies. He sounds out of breath, like he does when he was on the ice for an extra long shift. Only this time Kent did this and the thought sends sparks flying in the pit of his stomach. “What now?”

Yeah, what now? Kent glances at their half-finished dinner that Jeff so thoughtfully pulled off the heat before he rocked Kent’s entire world – not that Kent would ever tell Jeff that, or at least he wouldn’t use those exact words. He doesn’t want Jeff’s ego to get too big. 

Kent takes Jeff by the hand and pulls him towards the stairs. “Come with me?”

“Okay?”

“Trust me,” Kent says and takes the lead. Shit, it’s been such a long time since he liked a guy like this, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing. All he knows is that he wants to keep kissing Jeff, and he doesn’t want to do that in his kitchen. He really has thought about this.

Upstairs, he gently pushes Jeff down onto his bed and crawls on top of him. He doesn’t kiss him just yet, he just lies there and enjoys that he can do this for a second, because Jeff looks extremely comfortable to lie on and Kent has been really put out that he couldn’t just go for it. That definitely would have been too ridiculous, and maybe too obvious, and maybe also far, far across the very thin line that maintained some sort of distance between them during the last couple of weeks. 

Jeff laughs quietly. One of his hands ends up on the small of Kent’s back, the other one goes back into Kent’s hair, slowly running his fingers through it. 

“Guess you thought we were gonna make out, huh?” Kent mumbles. “Nope. None of that.”

“That’s all right,” Jeff says.

“I mean, I am gonna go back to kissing you in like two minutes.”

“Hmm… this is nice, too.”

Kent looks up to see if Jeff is making fun of him, but Jeff actually looks completely content. He’s closed his eyes and he has the smallest smile on his face. Kent might actually be a little bit in love with him, but that’s a thought he can grapple with on a different day. For now… Kent pushes himself up and kisses Jeff on the lips. 

“Oh, so we’re going back to that?” Jeff mutters.

“We are,” Kent says, and so they go back to _that_ , and maybe it’s even better than before. Kent really has trouble wading through all the things he’s feeling, he just knows that he wants to keep his hands and his lips on Jeff.

Kent eventually slides off of Jeff, because he’s an old hockey player who’s having issues with his knee this season – honestly, it wouldn’t really be hockey season it he wasn’t having issues with _something_. Still. This is his lucky season. He just decided that. If he gets to kiss Jeff Troy, he might as well end up winning the Cup, too, if that’s how things are going for him now. 

Kent wouldn’t say that they eventually have enough of all the kissing, but they end up side by side, Kent in Jeff’s arms, his head tucked under Jeff’s chin, and it feels just as good as kissing, so Kent isn’t exactly willing to move all that much right now. 

Jeff hums and kisses the top of Kent’s head. “See, I’ve sort of been hoping that this might happen,” he says, “but now I don’t really know what’s gonna happen next.”

“We keep going like we did before, only now I also get to kiss you,” Kent says. There’s really only one way for this to work. They tell no one. They keep it behind closed doors. And they try not to fuck everything up. 

“Do I also get to kiss you?” Jeff asks.

“Whenever you want,” Kent says. “Within reason.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Jeff says and drops another kiss on Kent’s head. “But that’s okay. I’m not complaining.”

“I mean, what do you wanna do? Tell everyone?”

Jeff is quiet for a moment and Kent knows how to read between the lines. The thought has apparently crossed Jeff’s mind. “No,” Jeff finally says. “Scrappy knows, though. About me. I told him a while ago.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, Scraps is a good guy, he didn’t make a fuss.”

Kent chews on his bottom lip. The mere thought of telling anyone about them is giving him anxiety. “Okay, but… Jeff?”

Jeff sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay,” Kent only says and tilts his head up to kiss Jeff’s jaw. Of course Jeff knows.

If Kent was smart, he’d admit to himself that this might very well become an issue in the future. Maybe not in the near future, but he should already see it coming regardless. Jeff has always been playing with the thought of coming out. He mentions it sometimes, just in passing, like it’s not something he’d ever actually do, but the thought is definitely there and Kent has a feeling that Jeff won’t be letting it go. 

But when it comes to Jeff, Kent isn’t smart. He doesn’t want to be. Right now, he doesn’t need to be. He can lie next to Jeff and kiss him and they don’t have to be anything more than they are. 

It’s comforting to know that, at least for now, they can have this and nothing needs to change. 

 

*

 

**March 2016**

 

“What time’s it?”

Kent only makes a vague grunting noise, because how the fuck is he supposed to know what time it is? They’re on the East Coast, so he’s slightly jetlagged, and therefore slightly not in the mood to get up, no matter what time it is.

Okay, sure, he woke up and snuggled against Jeff, and of course Jeff woke up, because he always does and Kent should know better by now. The plan was that he’d go right back to sleep, though. It’s still dark outside. 

“Go back to sleep,” Kent mumbles. He’s plastered himself against Jeff’s back, nose pressed against Jeff’s spine. He’s wearing one of those soft shirts that Kent likes to steal. Kent never takes them when they’re on the road, though. It would be explained away easily enough – they’ve been roommates for years and sometimes you just grab something that doesn’t belong to you and put it on without thinking. Kent has worn Scrappy’s shirt in the locker room before, because Kent couldn’t find his. He had a good laugh about it with the media. Stuff like that happens. He won’t risk it, though. 

That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have a stash of Jeff’s shirts at home in his drawer, though. And then there’s Jeff’s drawer, of course, so Kent can steal a shirt from there whenever he wants. 

Kent falls asleep again in no time. They’re nearing the end of the regular season and he’s tired, but he also has his eyes on the playoffs. They’re so close. 

A soft, “Kent,” wakes him up some time later.

“Hm?”

“Time to get up,” Jeff says. 

“Shit, I didn’t even hear the alarm,” Kent grumbles. 

Jeff kisses his temple. “I turned it off.” He does that sometimes. When he hears the alarm, he immediately turns it off and takes on the impossibly hard task of waking up Kent. “Hey…” Jeff kisses the corner of his mouth. “Today’s the day.”

Yes. Today’s the day. If they win this game tonight, they’ll have their playoff spot. 

Kent stretches and sighs contently when Jeff’s hand sneaks under his shirt. “I thought it was time to get up?”

“I mean, you totally would have hit the snooze button a couple of times,” Jeff says. 

Jeff has a point there. Kent tilts his head to kiss Jeff and when Jeff kisses him back lazily, Kent knows what kind of morning this is going to be. Jeff’s hand is still splayed on Kent’s stomach, but his eyes are closed and it looks like he’d rather go back to sleep. Kent kisses his forehead and scratches the back of his head. 

“Tonight,” Jeff mumbles.

“Yeah,” Kent says, “tonight. This year could be our year.”

“We think that every year,” Jeff says, cracking open one eye. He has a red streak from his pillow on his cheek and he’s scruffy and he has a small cut over his eyebrow from a high stick and Kent loves him so much right now, this soft, rumpled guy who always smiles at him in the morning.

“Are you being pessimistic?” Kent shakes his head. “In my house?”

“We’re literally in a hotel,” Jeff says.

“Shut up. Have some faith.”

“I do have all the faith,” Jeff says and gives Kent a quick kiss. “Would be nice to win the Cup again.”

“Yeah,” Kent says. It’s been four years since they last won the Cup. Kent remembers it like it was yesterday, Jeff’s arms around him after they won, lifting the Cup for the first time, skating around the arena with their fans cheering in the background, being drenched in champagne- He wants that again. He taps Jeff’s bicep where he has a tattoo of the date they won the Cup. “Would be nice.”

 

*

 

**May 2016**

 

“This is so romantic. Watching the sunset and drinking cocktails at the beach…” Kent smirks at Jeff. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

“Maybe,” Jeff says with an easy shrug.

“Jeffrey, that’s gay.”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Hey, you’re the one who wanted to go watch the sunset.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who got the alcohol involved,” Kent says. 

Jeff grins at him. 

All of this almost makes up for the fact that they didn’t make it past the second round of the playoffs. They lost on the road, in Seattle, and after the game they all shuffled onto the plane and went to sleep, not in the mood to talk or to play games. Halfway through the flight, Kent nudged Jeff awake and said, “Hey, let’s get out of Vegas after all the exit interview crap. Just for a couple of days. Let’s go somewhere nice and sunny.”

“Yeah,” Jeff said and wiggled in his seat to get more comfortable, “somewhere nice and sunny.” Two seconds later he was asleep again, his head resting on Kent’s shoulder, but he didn’t forget about their plans. They found themselves a private beach house and here they are. 

You could almost think that they’re boyfriends.

They’re not, though. They’re teammates. And they’re friends. They do all those things that boyfriends do, but they don’t go out on dates, unless it’s a date on Jeff’s patio. They don’t hold hands in public. They only kiss behind closed doors. They’re not boyfriends. They can’t be.

Right now it feels a lot like they are, though, with the sunset and the cocktails and the gentle waves almost reaching their bare toes now. It’ll be just them for a couple of days, no practice to go to, no games to get ready for, no interviews. And maybe, for these few days, they can at least pretend that they’re something like boyfriends until they go back to Vegas and they have to figure out what their summer is going to look like. 

No Worlds for them this year. They both need some rest. 

Kent did play with the thought of going for a bit – they did ask him to join the team as soon as the Aces dropped out of the playoff race – but in the end he knows that he could use a good, long summer. 

“So,” Jeff says, drawing patterns in the wet sand with his toes, “Conference Finals are starting tomorrow.”

“They are,” Kent says.

“Are we watching or not?”

Kent laughs. “You want to, don’t you?”

“Sort of?”

“And by _sort of_ you mean _yes, desperately_ , right?” Kent says. “I mean, you can always go ahead and watch and I’ll just… find something else to do.”

“But the whole point of this is that we’re doing stuff together.”

“Dude, we’re doing stuff together all the fucking time,” Kent says. “You can watch a hockey game without me.”

Jeff sighs and Kent realizes that he’s obviously missing the point. They’re on vacation together. This is not a spontaneous road trip, or a fun trip with the boys, this is a thing that couples do. They’re a couple. Except that they’re not.

Kent rests his chin on his drawn-up legs and a moment later Jeff’s fingers are in his hair, smoothing it down, only for the breeze to ruffle it again. 

“Jeff…” Kent says. 

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna watch hockey. I mean, it is kinda depressing that they still get to play and we don’t, but…” Jeff shrugs. “It’s still fun to watch.”

“I know.” Kent looks up and down the beach – someone’s playing with their dog a little further down, and a mom is watching her kids play in the sand. He doesn’t want to do this, but he slowly reaches up and pulls Jeff’s hand down. “I’m sorry,” he says lowly. He’s not sure if Jeff hears it or if it gets swallowed by the waves. 

“Do you wanna go back inside?” Jeff asks. He sounds disappointed and Kent can’t blame him. 

“No,” Kent says and keeps his hand on top of Jeff’s, now resting on the sand between them, hidden from sight. 

They don’t talk for a while and the waves start to wash over them. The person with the dog is the first one to disappear and before the sun has fully set, the mom with her two kids takes them inside as well, the kids shouting and laughing as they go. The stars are starting to come out and the air is getting cooler and Jeff’s head tips more and more until it’s resting against Kent’s.

“Kent,” Jeff says.

Kent looks out at the deep, black ocean. He doesn’t reply. It occurs to him that right now would be a perfect time to say _I love you_. If that was a thing that they did. They’re not even dating.

“Jeff.”

Jeff kisses his temple and Kent can feel Jeff’s smile against his skin. 

Sure, maybe they don’t say _I love you_ , and maybe Kent isn’t always the best at reading between the lines, but he’s pretty sure that it was implied.

“Let’s go back inside,” Jeff says and helps him up. Then he hands him their two cocktail glasses. “Here, hold these.”

“What, why?”

“Because…” Jeff says and grabs Kent around the waist and lifts him up.

“Fuck’s sake, Troy.” Kent clings to Jeff as best as he can as Jeff carries him back up the beach to the house. He does stop him before Jeff tries to carry him up the stairs, though. “Okay, enough.”

“That was a great work-out,” Jeff says.

“Oh, such fun, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

Jeff pinches Kent’s ass as he follows him up the stairs. “Great idea.”

Kent almost wants to try to carry Jeff down the hall to the bedroom they’re sharing, just to prove that Jeff isn’t the only one who can carry people, but he quickly gets distracted when Jeff starts kissing him and slowly nudges him towards their bed. 

They go to sleep with the sheets kicked off and the window open. Kent doesn’t go to sleep right away. He listens to the sound of the waves and looks at Jeff in the low light, his thoughts wandering so far that he has to keep reining them in again and again, so he won’t bring on some sort of existential crisis.

Jeff is sleeping on his stomach, face hidden behind his hair. Kent can’t stop looking at him. He somehow ended up here, he somehow got this lucky. It’s a little scary, because once you have something, you also have something to lose. And Kent has an exceptional talent when it comes to losing people he cares about. 

Jeff grunts in his sleep and Kent can’t help but laugh. 

“Hm,” says Jeff, and it almost sounds offended. He reaches out and pulls Kent against him. “Hm.” That one sounds a lot more content.

“Yeah,” Kent says. “Hm.”

Jeff nuzzles into his hair.

Kent closes his eyes with a smile still lingering on his face. Tomorrow morning, he’ll wake up next to Jeff. He never wants to wake up next to anyone else ever again. 

 

*

 

**June 2016**

 

Kent has a key for Jeff’s house. 

And, yes, last night was an absolute disaster, and Jeff probably never wants to see him again, or, if he’s being less dramatic, Jeff probably doesn’t want to see him _today_ , but Kent needs to see Jeff. He needs to make sure that Jeff doesn’t hate him. 

Kent gets dressed quickly. He’s already down the stairs, giving Kit a quick cuddle, when he notices that he’s wearing an Aces shirt with the number 14 on it. Kent rolls his eyes at himself, but he doesn’t go back upstairs to change. He grabs his phone, his car keys, the keys for Jeff’s house, and gets into his car. 

He goes through the closest diner drive-through to pick up breakfast and drives to Jeff’s house, where he sits in his car in the driveway for about ten minutes, trying to figure out what he’s going to say. He knows he should lead with an apology, but he also feels like he needs to explain. 

Kent was scared. He’s always so scared that someone will find out.

And now they probably will. He can deny it, but that doesn’t meant that anyone will believe him. The rumors about him and Zimms never really went away.

Kent finally manages to convince himself to get out of his car. He lets himself in – Jeff’s house is quiet and for a moment, Kent is scared that Jeff isn’t even home. Where would he be, though? At fucking Home Depot, because that’s where he goes when he’s in crisis mode? Is Home Depot even open yet?

All of his worries quickly disappear when he makes it to Jeff’s bedroom and Jeff is right there, sleeping on the right side of the bed, like he was leaving room for someone else, snoring softly. He’s wearing boxers, and socks that definitely belong to Kent. 

Okay, so, Kent’s big apology sort of depended on Jeff being awake and he clearly isn’t. Maybe the apology can wait. Kent tiptoes over to Jeff’s bed and very carefully sits down on the edge of the mattress. Jeff still hasn’t woken up.

Whatever. Kent takes off his shoes and slips under the covers. 

Jeff rolls over and fits himself against Kent like he always does. “Mmmm, Kent…” There’s a pause, then Jeff freezes. “Wait. Kent?” 

“Hey,” Kent says.

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

Jeff pulls him closer. “You’re here,” he says again.

“Yeah,” Kent says.

“Shit, Parse, I’m sorry ‘bout last night,” Jeff says, “I was up until, like, three, wondering if I should go to your place to check on you, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”

“It’s okay,” Kent says. “I’m sorry, too. Last night was…” He takes a deep breath. “I mean, what happens now?”

“Now we go back to sleep,” Jeff whispers and kisses Kent’s cheek.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.”

“So–”

“Sleep,” Jeff says. He reaches behind him and pulls something out from under his pillow. It’s Littlefoot that he hands to Kent. “Here. Give him a big squeeze. And then sleep.”

Kent grabs the dinosaur and tucks it between them. “I love you,” he says. It just tumbles out, because that’s how he handles all the big decisions in his life. Without thinking.

Jeff cracks a smile. “Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

“Yeah,” Kent says, “me neither.”

Jeff looks at him with the saddest doe eyes. “Kent, hey…” He leans in to kiss him. “I love you, too.”

Part of Kent wants to say something like, _Are you sure about that?_ He doesn’t. A little bit of trust. Really, just a little bit. He can muster that. 

“I think I’m gonna have to talk to Zimms,” Kent whispers.

Jeff doesn’t say anything at first, but he clearly wants to. Kent knows what Jeff wants to ask. He wants to know if it’s all true, then. If all those rumors aren’t just rumors. They’ve talked about Jack Zimmermann before, but there was only so much Kent could say. 

“It’s all true,” Kent says. “Well. Not all of it. But… Everything’s gonna change now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Jeff says. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

He has choices here. Come out, too. At least show his support. Say nothing. Go into hiding until the next season starts. None of that seems particularly appealing, because, no matter what he says, they won’t leave him alone.

Kent asked Jeff once if he believed that everything happens for a reason. And Jeff said no. He said that sometimes things happen because people make choices. Kent just has to make sure that this time he makes the right one. This is not just about him, it’s also about Jeff. He’s been thinking about coming out and now he could. 

“Whatever you wanna do,” Jeff says, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow, Kent already knew that. He just needed to hear it.

He grabs his phone. He has some things to figure out.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I appreciate all the comments and kudos :)


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